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7 


HYMNS 


OF 


FAITH 


i 

AND 


II  0  P  E. 


B  Y 

EORATIUS  BONAR,  D.D., 

KELSO, 

ACTHOH  OF  THE  “NIGHT  OF  WEEPING,”  “THE  MOENING  OF  JOY,”  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 

N  530  BKOADWA  Y. 


1864. 


ijOifimUl  Airl 
1  .  . 


v 


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(/) 

til 


<3"- 

(H 


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s 


€  a  n  1 1  n  t  s . 


DIVINE  ORDER . . 

LEFT  BEHIND . 

THE  MEETING- PLACE . 

A  STRANGER  HERE . 

OCEAN  TEACHINGS . 

NO  MORE  SEA . 

THE  CHANGE . 

THE  CLOUDLESS . 

THE  HOME  SICKNESS . 

THE  LAND  OF  LIGHT . 

THE  SEEN  AND  THE  UNSEEN.  . 

ADVENT . 

DAWN . 

RETURN  UNTO  THY  REST . 

THE  MORNING  STAR . 

THINGS  HOPED  FOR . 

THROUGH  DEATH  TO  LIFE . 

HORA  NOVISSIMA . 

THE  NIGHT  COMETH . 

THE  DAY  AFTER  ARMAGEDDON, 

REST  YONDER . 

HOW  LONG  ! . 

A  LITTLE  WHILE . 

NOT  VERY  FAR . 

THE  EVERLASTING  MEMORIAL  . 


9 

11 

13 

16 

20 

22 

24 

26 

28 

31 

33 

39 

41 

43 

46 

47 
50 
63 
56 
58 

63 

64 
66 
69 
71 


601369 


VI 


CONTENTS 


PACK 

OUR  ONE  LIFE .  74 

TOE  CONSOLATION .  76 

THE  REAL .  78 

NOT  HERE . 80 

NOT  NOW .  81 

LIGHT’S  TEACHINGS .  82 

EARTH’S  BEAUTY .  86 

THE  NIGHT  AND  THE  MORNING .  87 

HOPE  OF  DAY . .  .  88 

DAY-SPRING .  91 

DUST  TO  DUST .  94 

ARISE  AND  DEPART .  97 

THE  KINGDOM .  100 

NEWLY  FALLEN  ASLEEP .  102 

THE  FLESH  RESTING  IN  HOPE .  107 

REST .  110 

A  PILGRIM'S  SONG .  112 

QUIS  SEPARABIT .  115 

FAR  BETTER .  117 

WANDERING  DOWN .  119 

THE  ROD.. .  122 

STRENGTH  BY  THE  WAY .  127 

THE  FEAST . .  128 

THE  STRANGER  SEA-BIRD .  129 

HOPE  DEFERRED .  132 

THE  BLANK .  135 

THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  BELOVED .  136 

THE  LITTLE  FLOCK . 138 

THE  NAME  OF  NAMES .  141 

MINE  AND  THINE . 144 

ABIDE  IN  HIM .  145 

THE  BELOVED  SON .  147 

THE  SIN-BEARER.  ...  .  149 


CONTENTS 


Yll 

PAG3 

THE  SUBSTITUTE . 152 

LOST  BUT  FOUND.  . .  .  .  154 

THE  WORD  MADE  FLESH . . .  156 

THE  DARKNESS  AND  THE  LIGHT .  158 

THE  VOICE  FROM  GALILEE .  159 

A  BETHLEHEM  HYMN .  160 

THIS  DO  IN  REMEMBRANCE  OF  ME .  162 

CHRIST  OUR  PEACE .  164 

GOD’S  ISRAEL . 166 

THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CROSS .  167 

CHILD’S  PRAYER. .  168 

CHILD’S  MORNING  HYMN . 169 

TO  M.  L.  B .  171 

THE  TWO  ERAS  OF  THE  LAND .  173 

MARTYR’S  HYMN .  176 

SURSUM  CORD  A .  178 

THE  REST-DAY .  179 

THE  INNER  CALM .  181 

THE  DISBURDENING .  183 

COMPANIONSHIP .  185 

THE  HEAVENLY  SOWING .  186 

DISAPPOINTMENT .  188 

THE  TIME  TO  MEET .  190 

GONE  BEFORE .  192 

THE  ELDER  BROTHER .  194 

LIFE  FROM  THE  DEAD .  196 

EVER  NEAR .  197 

IT  IS  FINISHED .  198 

PRESS  ON .  200 

LAUS  DEO .  202 

CREATION .  203 

DESERT  LILIES .  207 

SUMMER  GLADNESS .  210 


CONTENTS 


V1U 


PAQ» 


THE  FRIEND .  212 

THE  BLANK .  214 

CHOOSE  WELL .  216 

’TWAS  I  THAT  DID  IT .  217 

THE  USEFUL  LIFE .  219 

PASSING  THROUGH .  221 

FORWARD .  223 

NOTHING  BETWEEN .  226 

FOLLOW  THOU  ME .  228 

VANITY . 230 

MACHPELAH .  232 

OLD  WORDS .  234 

THE  OLD  JEW  ON  MOUNT  MORIAH .  237 

THE  SHEPHERDS’  PLAIN . * .  240 

COME,  LORD . . .  246 

THY  WAY,  NOT  MINE .  249 

ALLELUIA .  251 

LIVE .  253 

THE  MARTYR’S  GRAVE .  255 

ALL  WELL .  258 

LINKS .  259 

THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  JUST .  262 

THE  PRAYER . 263 

THE  CITY.  .  . . 265 


HYMNS  OF  FAITH  AND  HOPE. 


DIVINE  ORDER. 

’Tis  first  the  true  and  then  the  beautiful, 

Not  first  the  beautiful  and  then  the  true ; 

First  the  wild  moor,  with  rock  and  reed  and  pool, 
Then  the  gay  garden,  rich  in  scent  and  hue. 

’Tis  first  the  good  and  then  the  beautiful, — 

Not  first  the  beautiful  and  then  the  good; 

First  the  rough  seed,  sown  in  the  rougher  soil, 
Then  the  flower-blossom,  or  the  branching  wood. 

Not  first  the  glad  and  then  the  sorrowful, — 

But  first  the  sorrowful,  and  then  the  glad ; 

Tears  for  a  day, — for  earth  of  tears  is  full, 

Then  \?e  forget  that  we  were  ever  sad. 


10 


DIVINE  ORDER. 


Not  first  the  blight,  and  after  that  the  dark, — 

But  first  the  dark,  aud  after  that  the  bright ; 
First  the  thick  cloud,  and  then  the  rainbow’s  arc, 
First  the  dark  grave,  then  resurrection-light. 

’Tis  first  the  night, — stern  night  of  storm  and  war, — 
Long  nights  of  heavy  clouds  and  veiled  skies ; 
Then  the  far  sparkle  of  the  Morning-star, 

That  bids  the  saints  awake  and  dawn  arise. 


LEFT  BEHIND. 


Look  at  this  starbeam  !  From  its  place  of  birth, 

It  has  come  down  to  greet  us  here  below ; 

Now  it  alights  unwearied  on  this  earth, 

Nor  storm  nor  night  have  quenched  its  heavenly 
glow. 

Unbent  before  the  winter’s  rugged  blast, 

Unsoiled  by  this  sad  planet’s  tainted  air, 

It  sparkles  out  from  yon  unmeasured  vast, 

Bright  ’mid  the  brightest,  ’mid  the  fairest  fair. 

Undimmed  it  reaches  me ;  but  yet  alone  : 

•  • 

The  thousand  gay  companions  that' took  wing 
Along  -with  it  have  perished  one  by  one, 

Scattered  o’er  space  like  blossoms  of  the  spring. 

Some  to  you  nearer  orbs  have  sped  their  course, 

Yon  city’s  smoke  has  quenched  a  thousand  more  ; 
Myriads  in  yon  dark  cloud  have  spent  their  force  ; 

A  few  stray  gleams  are  all  that  reach  our  shore. 


12 


LEFT  BEHIND. 


And  with  us !  'How  many,  who  began 

Life’s  race  with  us,  are  dropping  by  the  way ; 
Losing  themselves  in  darkness  one  by  one, 

From  the  glad  goal  departing  wide  astray ! 

When  we  shall  reach  the  kingdom  of  the  blest, 
How  few  who  started  with  us  shall  we  find 
Arriving  or  arrived,  for  glorious  rest ! 

How  many  shall  we  mourn  as  left  behind  !* 

“  Pauci  lseta  arva  tenemus.” —  Virgil,  JSneid,  VX 


I 


THE  MEETING-PLACE. 


Where  the  faded  flower  shall  freshen, — 
Freshen  never  more  to  fade ; 

Where  the  shaded  sky  shall  brighten,' — 
Brighten  never  more  to  shade : 

Where  the  sun-blaze  never  scorches  ; 
Where  the  star-beams  cease  to  chill ; 

Where  no  tempest  stirs  the  echoes 
Of  the  wood,  or  wave,  or  hill : 

Where  the  morn  shall  wake  in  gladness, 
And  the  moon  the  joy  prolong, 

Where  the  daylight  dies  in  fragrance, 
’Mid  the  burst  of  holy  song  : 

Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 

Where  no  shadow  shall  bewilder, 

Where  life’s  vain  parade  is  o’er, 

Where  the  sleep  of  sin  is  broken, 

And  the  dreamer  dreams  no  more : 


14 


THE  MEETING-PLACE. 


Where  the  bond  is  never  severed  ; — 
Partings,  claspings,  sob  and  moan, 
Midnight  waking,  twilight  weeping, 
Heavy  noontide, — all  are  done : 
Where  the  child  has  found  its  mother, 
Where  the  mother  finds  the  child, 
Where  dear  families  a.re  gathered, 
That  were  scattered  on  the  wild : 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 

Where  the  hidden  wound  is  healed, 
Where  the  blighted  light  re-blooms, 
Where  the  smitten  heart  the  freshness 
Of  its  buoyant  youth  resumes  : 
Where  the  love  that  here  we  lavish 
On  the  withering  leaves  of  time, 
Shall  have  fadeless  flowers  to  fix  on 
In  an  ever  spring  bright  clime  : 
Where  wo  find  the  joy  of  loving, 

As  we  never  loved  before, — 

Loving  on,  unchilled,  unhindered, 
Loving  once  and  evermore : 

Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest, 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 


t 


THE  MEETING-PLACE. 

Where  a  blasted  world  shall  brighten 
Underneath  a  bluer  sphere, 

And  a  softer,  gentler  sunshine 
Shed  its  healing  splendor  here  : 

Where  earth’s  barren  vales  shall  blossom, 
Putting  on  their  robe  of  green, 

And  a  purer,  fairer  Eden 

Be  where  only  wastes  have  been  : 
Where  a  King  in  kingly  glory, 

Such  as  earth  has  never  known, 

Shall  assume  the  righteous  sceptre, 

Claim  and  wear  the  holy  crown  : 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest, 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest. 


15 


% 


A  STRANGER  HERE. 

I  miss  the  dear  paternal  dwelling, 

Which  mem’ry,  still  undimmed,  recals, 

A  thousand  early  stories  telling  ; 

I  miss  the  venerable  walls. 

I  miss  the  chamber  of  my  childhood, 

I  miss  the  shade  of  boyhood’s  tree, — 

The  glen,  the  path,  the  cliff,  the  wild-wood, 
The  music  of  the  well-known  sea. 

I  miss  the  ivied  haunt  of  moonlight, 

I  miss  the  forest  and  the  stream, 

I  miss  the  fragrant  grove  of  noonlight, 

I  miss  our  mountain’s  sunset  o-leam. 

o 

I  miss  the  green  slope,  where,  reposing, 

I  mused  upon  the  near  and  far, 

Marked,  one  by  one,  each  floweret  closing, 
Watched,  one  by  one,  each  opening  star 


A  STRANGER  HERE. 


17 


I  miss  the  well-remembered  faces, 

The  voices,  forms,  of  fresher  days  ; 

Time  ploughs  not  up  these  deep-drawn  traces, 
These  lines  no  ages  can  erase. 

I  miss  them  all,  for,  unforgetting, 

My  spirit  o’er  the  past  still  strays, 

And,  much  its  wasted  years  regretting, 

It  treads  again  these  shaded  ways. 

I  mourn  not  that  each  early  token 
Is  now  to  me  a  faded  flower, 

Nor  that  the  magic  snare  is  broken 
That  held  me  with  its  mystic  power. 

I  murmur  not  that  now  a  stranger 
I  pass  along  the  smiling  earth  ; 

I  know  the  snare,  I  dread  the  danger, 

I  hate  the  haunts,  I  shun  the  mirth. 

My  hopes  are  passing  upward,  onward, 

And  with  my  hopes  my  heart  has  gone  ; 
My  eye  is  turning  skyward,  sunward, 

Where  glory  brightens  round  yon  throne. 

2* 


18 


A  STRANGER  HERE. 


My  spirit  seeks  its  dwelliDg  yonder ; 

And  fate  fore-dates  llie  joyful  day 

When  these  old  skies  shall  cease  to  simder 
The  one  dear  love-linked  family. 

Well-pleased  I  find  years  rolling  o’er  me, 
And  hear  each  day-time’s  measured  tread  ; 

Far  fewer  clouds  now  stretch  before  me, 
Behind  me  is  the  darkness  spread. 

And  summer’s  suns  are  swiftlv  setting, 

And  life  moves  downward  in  their  train, 

And  autumn  dews  are  fondly  wetting 
The  faded  cheek  of  earth  in  vain. 

December  moons  are  coldly  waning, 

And  life  with  them  is  on  the  wane  ; 

Storm-laden  skies  with  sad  complaining, 
Bend  blackly  o’er  the  unsmiling  main. 

My  future  from  my  past  unlinking, 

Each  dying  year  untwines  the  spell ; 

^The  visible  is  swiftly  sinking, 

Uprises  the  invisible. 


A  STRANGER  HERE. 


19 


To  light,  unchanging,  and  eternal, 

From  mists  that  sadden  this  bleak  waste, 
To  scenes  that  smile  for  ever  vernal, 

From  winter’s  blackening  leaf  I  haste. 

Earth,  what  a  sorrow  lies  before  thee, 

None  like  it  in  the  shadowy  past ; — 

The  sharpest  throe  that  ever  tore  thee, 

Even  tho’  the  briefest  and  the  last ! 

I  see  the  fair  moon  veil  her  lustre, 

I  see  the  sackcloth  of  the  sun  ; 

The  shrouding  of  each  starry  cluster, 

The  threefold  woe  of  earth  begun. 

I  see  the  shadows  of  its  sunset ; 

And  wrapped  in  these  the  Avenger’s  form , 
I  see  the  Armageddon-onset ; 

But  I  shall  be  above  the  storm. 

There  comes  the  moaning  and  the  sighing, 
There  comes  the  hot  tear’s  heavy  fall, 

The  thousand  agonies  of  dying ; — 

But  I  shall  be  beyond  them  all. 


OCEAN  TEACHINGS. 


“  This  groat  and  wide  sea.”— Psalm  civ.  25. 

That  rising  storm  !  It  lias  awakened  me ; 

My  slumbering  spirit  starts  to  life  anew ; 

That  blinding  spray-drift,  bow  it  falls  upon  me, 

+  As  on  the  weary  flower  the  freshening  dew. 

That  rugged  rock-fringe  that  girds  in  the  ocean, 

And  calls  the  foam  from  its  translucent  blue, 

It  seems  to  pour  strange  strength  into  my  spirit, — • 
Strength  for  endurance,  strength  for  conflict  too. 

And  these  bright  ocean-birds,  these  billow-rangers, 
The  snowy-breasted, — each  a  winged  wave — 
They  tell  me  how  to  joy  in  storm  and  dangers, 
When  surges  whiten,  or  when  whirlwinds  rave. 

And  these  green-stretching  fields,  these  peaceful  hoi 
lows, 

That  hear  the  tempest,  but  take  no  alarm, 


OCEAN  TEACHINGS. 


21 


Has  not  tlieir  placid  verdure  sweetly  tauglit  me 
The  peace  within  when  all  without  is  storm  ? 

And  thou  keen  sun-flash,  through  the  cloud- wreath 
bursting, 

Silvering  the  sea,  the  sward,  the  rock,  the  foam, 
What  light  within  me  has  thy  pure  gleam  kindled  ? 
’Tis  from  the  land  of  light  that  thou  art  come. 

And  of  the  time  how  blithely  art  thou  telling, 

When  cloud  and  change  and  tempest  shall  take 
wing ; 

Each  beam  of  thine  prophetic  of  the  glory, 

Creation’s  daybreak,  earth’s  long-promised  spring. 

Even  thus  it  is,  my  God  me  daily  teachetli 
Sweet  knowledge  out  of  all  I  hear  and  see  ; 

Each  object  has  a  heavenly  voice  within  it, 

Each  scene,  however  troubled,  speaks  to  me. 

For  all  upon  this  earth  is  broken  beauty, 

Yet  out  of  all  what  strange,  deep  lessons  rise  ? 

Each  hour  is  giving  out  its  heaven-sent  wisdom, 

A  message  from  the  sea,  the  shore,  the  skies. 


NO  MORE  SEA. 


K<fl  fj  OdXacaa  ova  Igtlv  etl. — (Rev.  zxi.  1.) 

Summer  Ocean,  idly  washing 
This  grey  rock  on  which  I  lean ; 

Summer  Ocean,  broadly  flashing 
With  thy  hues  of  gold  and  green; 

Gently  swelling,  wildly  dashing 
O’er  yon  island-studded  scene  ; 

Summer  Ocean,  how  I’  11  miss  thee, — 
Miss  the  thunder  of  thy  roar, 

Miss  the  music  of  thy  ripple, 

Miss  thy  sorrow-soothing  shore, - 

Summer  Ocean,  how  I’  11  miss  thee, 
When  “the  sea  shall  be  no  more.” 

Summer  Ocean,  how  I  ’ll  miss  thee, 

As  along  thy  strand  I  range  ; 

Or  as  here  I  sit  and  watch  thee 
In  thy  moods  of  endless  change — 


SO  MORE  SEA. 


23 


Mirthful  moods  of  morning  gladness, 
Musing  moods  of  sunset  sadness; 
When  the  dying  winds  caress  thee, 
And  the  sinking  sunbeams  kiss  thee, 
And  the  crimson  cloudlets  press  thee, 
And  all  nature  seems  to  bless  thee  !— 
Summer  Ocean,  how  I  ’ll  miss  thee, — 

Miss  the  wonders  of  thy  shore, 

Miss  the  magic  of  thy  grandeur, 

When  “the  sea  shall  be  no  more  1” 

And  yet  sometimes  in  my  musings, 

When  I  think  of  what  shall  be  ; 

In  the  day  of  earth’s  new  glory, 

Still  I  seem  to  roam  by  thee. 

As  if  all  had  not  departed, 

But  the  glory  lingered  still ; 

As  if  that  which  made  thee  lovely, 

Had  remained  unchangeable. 

Only  that  which  marred  thy  beauty,—* 
Only  that  had  passed  away, 

Sullen  wilds  of  Ocean-moorland, 

Bloated  features  of  decay. 

Only  that  dark  waste  of  waters, 


24 


NO  MORE  SEA. 


Line  ne’  er  fathomed,  eye  ne  ’er  scanne<i, 
Only  that  shall  shrink  and  vanish, 

Yielding  back  the  imprisoned  land. 
Yielding  back  earth’s  fertile  hollows, 

Long  submerged  and  hidden  plains ; 
Giving  up  a  thousand  valleys, 

Of  the  ancient  world’s  domains. 

Leaving  still  bright  azure  ranges, 

Winding  round  this  rocky  tower  ; 
Leaving  still  yon  gem-bright  island, 
Sparkling  like  an  ocean-flower. 

Leaving  still  some  placid  stretches, 

Where  the  sunbeams  bathe  at  noon, 
Leaving  still  some  lake-like  reaches, 
Mirrors  for  the  silver  moon. 

Only  all  of  gloom  and  horror, 

Idle  wastes  of  endless  brine, 

Haunts  of  darkness,  storm,  and  danger, 
These  shall  be  no  longer  thine. 
Backward  ebbing,  wave  and  ripple, 
Wondrous  scenes  shall  then  disclose 
And,  like  earth’s,  the  wastes  of  ocean 
Then  shall  blossom  as  the  rose. 


THE  CHANGE. 


I  love  yon  pale  blue  sky  ;  it  is  tlie  floor 
Of  that  glad  home  where  I  shall  shortly  be  ; 

A  home  from  which  I  shall  go  out  no  more  ; 

From  toil  and  grief  and  vanity  sot  free. 

I  gaze  upon  you  everlasting  arch, 

Up  which  the  bright  stars  wander,  as  they  shine ; 
And  as  I  mark  them  in  their  nightly  march, 

I  think  how  soon  that  journey  shall  be  mine  ! 

Yon  silver  drift  of  silent  cloud,  far  up 

In  the  still  heaven — through  you  my  pathway  lies  ; 
Yon  rugged  mountain-peak — how  soon  your  top 
Shall  I  behold  beneath  me,  as  I  rise  ! 

Not  many  more  of  life’s  slow-pacing  hours, 

Shaded  with  sorrow’s  melancholy  hue ; — 

Oh,  what  a  glad  ascending  shall  be  ours, 

Oh,  what  a  pathway  up  yon  starry  blue  1 

3 


26 


THE  CLOUDLESS. 


A  journey  like  Elijah’s,  swift  and  bright, 

Caught  gently  upward  to  an  early  crown, 

In  heaven’s  own  chariot  of  unblazing  light,* 
With  death  untasted  and  the  grave  unknown. 


THE  CLOUDLESS. 

No  shadows  yonder ! 

All  light  and  song  ; 

Each  day  I  wonder, 

And  say,  How  long 
Shall  time  me  sunder 
From  that  dear  throng  ? 

No  weeping  yonder ! 

All  fled  away ; 

While  here  I  wander 
Each  weary  day, 

And  sigh  as  I  ponder 
My  long,  long  stay. 


*  Oei(f)  rcvpl  TrafMjxzfc. — -Soph.  Philoch 


THE  CLOUDLESS. 


27 


No  partings  yonder ! 

Time  and  space  never 
Again  shall  sunder ; 

Hearts  cannot  sever ; 
Dearer  and  fonder 
Hands  clasp  for  ever.* 

None  wanting  yonder, 
Bought  by  the  Lamb  I 
All  gathered  under 
The  evergreen  palm ; 
Loud  as  night’s  thunder 
Ascends  the  glad  psalm. 


*  ’A  J aKpvv  vefiovrat  aitiva. — Pindar.  Olymp, 


THE  HOME  SICKNESS. 


“  0  civitas  saneta,  civitas  speeiosa,  de  longinquo  te  saluto, 
ad  te  clamo,  te  requiro.” — Augustine,  De  Spir.  et  Anim. 

And  whence  this  weariness, 

This  gathering  cloud  of  gloom  ? 

Whence  this  dull  weight  of  loneliness, 

These  greedy  cravings  for  the  tomb  ? 

These  greedier  cravings  for  the  hopes  that  lie 
Beyond  the  tomb,  beyond  the  things  that  die; 
Beyond  the  smiles  and  joys  that  come  and  go, 
Fevering  the  spirit  with  their  fitful  How  ; 

Beyond  the  circle  where  the  shadows  fall ; 
Within  the  region  where  my  God  is  all. 

It  is  not  that  I  fear 

To  breast  the  storm  or  wrestle  with  the  wave, 
To  swim  the  torrent  or  the  blast  to  brave, 

To  toil  or  suffer  in  this  day  of  strife 
As  He  may  will  who  gave  this  struggling  life,— 
But  I  am  homesick  1 


THE  HOME  SICKNESS. 


29 


It  is  not  that  the  cross 

Is  heavier  than  this  drooping  frame  can  bear, 

Or  that  I  find  no  kindred  heart  to  share 
The  burden,  which,  in  these  last  days  of  ill, 
Seems  to  press  heavier,  sharper,  sorer  still, — 

But  I  am  homesick  ! 

It  is  not  that  the  snare 

Is  laid  around  for  my  unwary  feet, 

Aud  that  a  thousand  wily  tempters  greet 
My  slippery  steps  and  lead  me  far  astray 
From  that  safe  guidance  of  the  narrow  way,— 
But  I  am  homesick ! 

It  is  not  that  the  path 

Is  rough  and  perilous,  beset  with  foes, 

From  the  first  step  down  to  its  weary  close, 
Strewm  with  the  flint,  the  bri^r,  and  the  thorn, 
That  wound  my  limbs  and  leave  my  raiment  torn, 
But  I  am  homesick  ! 

It  is  not  that  the  sky 

Is  darkly  sad,  and  the  unloving  air 

Chilis  me  to  fainting;  and  the  clouds  that  there 

3* 


30 


THE  HOME  SICKNESS. 


Hang  over  me  seem  signal  clouds  unfurled, 
Portending  wratli  to  an  unready  world, — 

But  I  am  homesick  ! 

Jt  is  not  that  the  earth 

Has  grown  less  bright  and  fair, — that  these  grey 
hills, 

These  ever-lapsing,  ever-lulling  rills, 

And  these  breeze-haunted  woods,  that  ocean  clear, 
Have  now  become  less  beautiful,  less  dear, — 
But  I  am  homesick  ! 

Let  me,  then,  weary  be  ! 

I  shrink  not, — murmur  not ; 

In  all  this  homelessness  I  see 
The  'Church’s  pilgrim-lot ; 

Her  lot  until  her  absent  Lord  shall  come, 

And  the  long  homeless  here,  shall  find  a  home. 

Then  no  more  weariness  ! 

No  gathering  cloud  of  gloom  ; 

Then  no  dull  weight  of  loneliness. 

No  greedy  cravings  for  the  tomb  : 

For  death  shall  then  be  swallowed  up  of  life, 

And  the  glad  victory  shall  end  the  strife  1 


THE  LAND  OF  LIGHT. 


That  clime  is  not  like  this  dull  clime  of  ours ; 

All,  all  is  brightness  there  ; 

A  sweeter  influence  breathes  around  its  flowers, 
And  a  far  milder  air. 

No  calm  below  is  like  that  calm  above. 

No  region  here  is  like  that  realm  of  love  ; 
Earth’s  softest  spring  ne’er  shed  so  soft  a  light, 
Earth’s  brightest  summer  never  shone  so  blight. 

That  sky  is  not  like  this  sad  sky  of  ours, 

Tinged  with  earth’s  change  and  care  : 

No  shadow  dims  it,  and  no  rain-cloud  lowers, — 
No  broken  sunshine  there ! 

One  everlasting  stretch  of  azure  pours 
Its  stainless  splendor  o’er  these  sinless  shores; 
For  there  Jehovah  shines  with  heavenly  ray, 
There  Jesus  reigns  dispensing  endless  day. 


32 


THE  LAND  OF  LIGHT. 


Those  dwellers  there  are  not  like  these  of  earth, 
No  mortal  stain  they  bear ; 

And  yet  they  seem  of  kindred  blood  and  birth, — 
Whence,  and  how  came  they  there  ? 

Earth  was  their  native  soil,  from  sin  and  shame, 
Through  tribulation  they  to  glory  came  ; 
Bond-slaves  delivered  from  sin’s  crushing  load, 
Brands  plucked  from  burning  by  the  hand  of  God. 

Those  robes  of  theirs  are  not  for  these  below ; 

No  angel’s  half  so  bright ! 

o  o 

Whence  came  that  beauty,  whence  that  living  glow 

Whence  came  that  radiant  white  ? 

Washed  in  the  blood  of  the  atoning  Lamb, 

Fair  as  the  light  those  robes  of  theirs  became, 

And  now,  all  tears  wippd  off  from  every  eye, 

They  wander  where  the  freshest  pastures  lie, 

Through  all  the  nightless  day  of  that  unfading 

skv ! 

«/ 


THE  SEEN  AND  TllE  UNSEEN. 

On  the  Great  Exhibition,  1851. 

H  a  !  you  burst  of  crystal  splendor, 
Sunlight,  starlight,  blent  in  one  ; 
Starlight  set  in  arctic  azure, 

Sunlight  from  the  burning  zone  1 
Gold  and  silver,  gems  and  marble, 

All  creation’s  jewelry ; 

Earth’s  uncovered  waste  of  riches, 

Treasures  of  the  ancient  sea. 

Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 


Iris  and  Aurora  braided — 

IIow  the  woven  colors  shine ! 
Snow-gleams  from  an  Alpine  summit, 
Toi  ch-light  from  a  spar-roofed  mine. 


34 


THE  SEEN  AND  THE  UNSEEN. 


Like  Arabia’s  matchless  palace, 
Child  of  magic’s  strong  decree, 
One  vast  globe  of  living  sapphire, 
Floor,  walls,  columns,  canopy. 
Hein  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 


Forms  of  beauty,  shapes  of  wonder, 
Trophies  of  triumphant  toil ; 
Never  Athens,  Rome,  Palmyra, 
Gazed  on  such  a  costly  spoil. 
Dazzling  the  bewildered  vision, 

More  than  princely  pomp  we  see ; 
What  the  blaze  of  the  Alhambra, 
Dome  of  emerald,  to  thee  ? 

Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 


Farthest  cities  pour  their  riches, 
Farthest  empires  muster  here, 
Art  her  jubilee  proclaiming 
To  the  nations  far  and  near. 


THE  SEEN  AND  THE  UNSEEN.  35 

From  tlie  crowd  in  wonder  gazing, 

Science  claims  the  prostrate  knee; 

This  her  temple,  diamond -blazing, 

Shrine  of  her  idolatry. 

Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 

Listen  to  her  tale  of  wonder, 

Of  her  plastic,  potent  spell ; 

*T  is  a  big  and  braggart  story, 

Yet  she  tells  it  fair  and  well. 

V- 

She  the  gifted,  gay  magician, 

Mistress  of  earth,  air,  and  sea ; 

This  majestic  apparition. 

Offspring  of  her  sorcery. 

Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 


What  to  that  for  which  we’re  waiting 
Is  this  glittering  earthly  toy  ? 
Heavenly  glory,  holy  splendor, 

Sum  of  grandeur,  sum  of  joy. 


30 


THE  SEEN  .AND  THE  UNSEEN. 


4 


Not  the  gems  that  time  can  tarnish, 
Not  the  hues  that  dim  and  die, 
Not  the  glow  that  cheats  the  lover, 
Shaded  with  mortality. 

Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me! 


Not  the  light  that  leaves  us  darker, 
Nor  the  gleams  that  come  and  go, 
Not  the  mirth  whose  end  is  madness, 
Not  the  joy  whose  fruit  is  woe  ; 
Not  the  notes  that  die  at  sunset, 

Not  the  fashion  of  a  day  ; 

But  the  everlasting  beauty, 

And  the  endless  melody. 

Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me ! 


City  ui  the  pearl-bright  portal ; 

City  of  the  jasper  wall ; 

City  of  the  golden  pavement ; 
Seat  of  endless  festival. 


/ 


THE  SEEK  AND  THE  UNLEEN. 


37 


City  of  Jehovah,  Salem, 

City  of  eternity, 

To  thy  bridal-hall  of  gladness, 
From  this  prison  would  I  flee. 
Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me  l 


Ah  1  with  such  strange  spells  around  me, 
Fairest  of  what  earth  calls  fair, 

How  I  need  thy  fairer  image, 

To  undo  the  syren  snare  ? 

Lest  the  subtle  serpent-tempter 
Lure  me  with  his  radiant  lie  ; 

'  m 

As  if  sin  were  sin  no  longer, 

Life  were  no  more  vanity. 

Heir  of  glory, 

What  is  that  to  thee  and  me  ? 


Yes,  I  need  thee ,  heavenly  city, 

My  low  spirit  to  upbear ; 

Yes,  I  need  thee — earth’s  enchantments 

So  beguile  me  with  their  glare. 

4 


38 


THE  SEEN  AND  THE  UNSEEN. 


Let  me  see  thee,  then  these  fetters 
Break  asunder ;  I  am  free  ; 

Then  this  pomp  no  longer  chains  me  ; 
Faith  has  won  the  victory. 

Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee' and  me  ! 

Soon  where  earthly  beauty  blinds  not, 
Ho  excess  of  brilliance  palls, 

Salem,  city  of  the  holy, 

We  shall  be  within  thy  walls ! 

There,  beside  yon  crystal  river, 

There,  beneath  life’s  wondrous  tree, 
There,  with  naught  to  cloud  or  sever— 
Ever  with  the  Lamb  to  be  ! 

Heir  of  glory, 

That  shall  be  for  thee  and  me ! 


ADVENT. 


The  Church  has  waited  loner 
Her  absent  Lord  to  see ; 

And  still  in  loneliness  she  waits, 

A  friendless  stranger  she. 

Age  after  age  has  gone, 

Sun  after  sun  has  set, 

And  still  in  weeds  of  widowhood 
She  weeps  a  mourner  yet. 

Come,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come 

Saint  after  saint  on  earth 

Has  lived,  and  loved,  and  died  ; 

And  as  they  left  us  one  by  one, 

We  laid  them  side  by  side ; 

We  laid  them  down  to  sleep, 

But  not  in  hope  forlorn  ; 

We  laid  them  but  to  ripen  there, 

Till  the  last  glorious  morn. 

Came,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come ! 


40 


ADVENT. 


The  serpent’s  brood  increase, 

The  powers  of  bell  grow  bold, 

The  conflict  thickens,  faith  is  low, 

And  love  is  waxing  cold. 

How  long,  O  Lord  our  God, 

Holy  and  true,  and  good, 

Wilt  Thou  not  judge  Thy  suffering  Church, 
Her  sighs  and  tears  and  blood  ? 

<D 

Come,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 

We  long  to  hear  Thy  voice, 

To  see  Thee  face  to  face, 

To  share  Thy  crown  and  glory  then, 

As  now  we  share  Thy  grace. 

Should  not  the  loving  bride 

The  absent  bridegroom  mourn  ? 

Should  she  not  wear  the  weeds  of  grief 
Until  her  Lord  return  ? 

Come,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come 

The  whole  creation  groans, 

And  waits  to  hear  that  voice, 

That  shall  restore  her  comeliness, 

And  make  her  wastes  rejoice. 


DAWN. 


41 


Come,  Lord,  and  wipe  away 
The  curse,  the  sin,  the  stain, 

Aud  make  this  blighted  world  of  ours 
Thine  own  fair  world  again. 

%  Come,  then,  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 


DAWN. 

Light  of  the  better  morning, 
Shine  down  on  me  ! 

Sun  of  the  brighter  heaven, 
Bid  darkness  flee ! 

Thy  warmth  impart 
To  this  dull  heart : 

Pour  in  thy  light, 

And  let  this  night 
Be  turned  to  day 
By  thy  mild  ray ! 

Lord  Jesus,  come ; 

Thou  day-star  shine ; 
Enlighten  now 

This  soul  of  mine  ! 

4* 


4 


42 


DAWN. 

Streaks  of  the  better  dawning 

* 

Break  on  my  sight, 
Fringing  with  silver  edges 
These  clouds  of  night. 

Gems  on  morn’s  brow,  # 
Glow,  brightly  glow, 
Foretelling  soon 
The  ascending  noon, 
Wakening  this  earth 
To  second  birth, 

When  He  shall  come 
To  earth  again, 

Who  comes  to  judge, 

Who  comes  to  reign. 


/ 


RETURN  UNTO  THY  REST. 


Cease,  my  soul,  thy  strayings ! 

Have  they  brought  thee  peace  ? 
Come,  no  more  delayings, 

Cease  thy  wanderings,  cease. 
These  vanities  how  vain  ! 
Wander  not  again. 


Thou  hast  found  thy  centre  ; 

There,  my  soul,  abide  ; 

Never  more  adventure 
Now  to  swerve  aside. 

These  vanities  how  vain! 
Wander  not  again. 

Thou  hast  reached  thy  dwelling  ; 
Safe,  sure  anchorage 

* 

From  the  perilous  swelling 
Of  the  tempest’s  rage. 

These  vanities  how  vain ! 
Wander  not  again. 


44 


RETURN  UNTO  Tsf/ 


Tranquil  hours  now  greet  thee, 

In  thy  calm  abode ; 

Gracious  looks  now  meet  thee, 
From  thy  loving  God. 

These  vanities  how  vain  ! 
Wander  not  again. 


See  yon  star,  love-lighted, 
Sparkles  from  on  high  ; 

See  yon  hope,  love-plighted, 
Cheers  thy  heaviest  sky. 

These  vanities  how  vain  ! 
Wander  not  again. 

Watch,  my  soul,  the  glory 
Coming  brightly  up, 

O’er  yon  forest  hoary, 

O’er  yon  mountain- top. 

These  vanities  how  vain  ! 

a 

Wander  not  again. 


'Tis  the  bridal  morning; 
Rise,  make  no  delay ; 


RETURN  UNTO  THY  REST. 


45 


Put  on  thine  adorning, 

Cast  thy  weeds  away. 

These  vanities  how  vain! 
Wander  not  again. 

Pierce  these  mists  that  blind  thee, 
Press  to  yonder  prize, 

Break  the  bonds  that  bind  thee, 
Rise,  my  soul,  arise  ! 

These  vanities  how  vain ! 
Wander  not  again. 


THE  MORNING  STAR. 


There  is  a  morning  star,  my  soul, 

There  is  a  morning  star  ; 

’Twill  soon  be  near  and  bright,  tho’  now 
It  seems  so  dim  and  far. 

And  when  time’s  stars  have  come  and  gone 
And  every  mist  of  earth  has  flown, 

That  better  star  shall  lise 
On  this  world’s  clouded  skies, 

To  shine  forever ! 

The  night  is  well  nigh  spent,  my  soul, 

The  night  is  well  nigh  spent, 

And  soon  above  our  heads  shall  shine 
A  glorious  firmament : 

A  sky  all  glad,'  and  pure,  and  bright, 

The  Lamb,  once  slain,  its  perfect  light 
A  star  without  a  cloud, 

Whose  light  no  mists  enshroud, 

Descending  never. 


THINGS  HOPED  FOR. 


These  are  tHe  crowns  that  we  shall  wear 
When  all  thy  saints  are  crowned ; 

These  are  the  palms  that  we  shall  bear 
On  yonder  holy  ground. 

Far  off  as  yet,  reserved  in  heaven, 

Above  that  veiling  sky, 

They  sparkle,  like  the  stars  of  even, 

To  hope’s  far-piercing  eye. 

These  are  the  robes,  unsoiled  and  white, 
Which  then  we  shall  put  on, 

When,  foremost  ’mong  the  sons  of  light. 
We  sit  on  yonder  throne. 

That  city  with  the  jewelled  crest, 

Like  some  new-lighted  sun ; 

A  blaze  of  burning  amethyst— 

Ten  thousand  orbs  in  one 


48 


THIKGS  HOPED  FOR. 


That  is  the  city  of  the  saints, 

Where  we  so  soon  shall  stand, 

When  we  shall  strike  these  desert-tents. 
And  quit  this  desert-sand. 

These  are  the  everlasting  hills, 

With  summits  bathed  in  day  : 

The  slopes  down  which  the  living  rills, 
Soft-lapsing,  take  their  way. 

Fair  vision  !  how  thy  distant  gleam 
Brightens  time’s  saddest  hue  ; 

Far  fairer  than  the  fairest  dream, 

And  yet  so  strangely  true  ! 

Fair  vision  !  how  thou  liftest  up 
The  drooping  brow  and  eye ; 

With  the  calm  joy  of  thy  sure  hope 
Fixing  our  souls  on  high. 

Thy  light  makes  even  the  darkest  page 
In  memory’s  scroll  grow  fair  ; 

Blanching  the  lines  which  tears  aud  age 
Had  only  deepened  there. 


THINGS  HOPED  FOR. 


49 


With  thee  in  view,  the  rugged  slope 
Becomes  a  level  way, 

Smoothed  by  the  magic  of  thy  hope, 

And  gladdened  by  thy  raj^. 

With  thee  in  view,  how  poor  appear 
The  world’s  most  winning  smiles; 

Vain  is  the  tempter’s  subtlest  snare, 

And  vain  hell’s  varied  wiles. 

Time’s  glory  fades ;  its  beauty  now 
Has  ceased  to  lure  or  blind  ; 

Each  gay  enchantment  here  below 
Has  lost  its  power  to  bind. 

Then  welcome  toil,  and  care,  and  pain  I 
And  welcome  sorrow  too ! 

All  toil  is  rest,  all  grief  is  gain, 

With  such  a  prize  in  view. 

Come  crown  and  throne,  come  robe  and  palm ! 

Burst  forth  glad  stream  of  peace ! 

Come,  holy  city  of  the  Lamb ! 

Rise,  Sun  of  Righteousness  ! 

5 


60 


THKOUGH  DEATH  TO  LIJFi:. 


When  shall  the  clouds  that  veil  thy  rays 
Forever  be  withdrawn  ? 

Why  dost  thou  tarry,  day  of  days  ? 
When  shall  thy  gladness  dawn  % 


THROUGH  HEATH  TO  LIFE 

The  star  is  not  extinguished  wdien  it  .lets 
Upon  the  dull  horizon  ;  it  but  goes 
To  shine  in  other  shies,  then  re-appear 
In  ours,  as  fresh  as  when  it  first  arose. 

The  river  is  not  lost,  when,  o7er  the  rock, 

It  pours  its  flood  into  the  abyss  below ; 

Its  scattered  force  re-gathering  from  the  shook; 

It  hastens  onward,  with  yet  fuller  flow. 

The  bright  sun  dies  not,  when  the  shadowing  orb 
Of  the  eclipsing  moon  obscures  its  ray  : 

It  still  is  shinino;  on ;  and  soon  to  us 

Will  burst  undimmed  into  the  joy  of  day. 


THROUGH  DEATH  TO  LIFE. 


51 


Tlie  lily  dies  not,  when  both  flower  and  leaf 

Fade,  a.nd  are  strewed  upon  the  chill  sad  ground ; 
Gone  down  for  shelter  to  its  mother-earth, 

’Twill  rise,  re-bloom,  and  shed  its  fragrance 
round. 

The  dew-drop  dies  not,  when  it  leaves  the  flower, 
And  passes  upward  on  the  beam  of  morn  ; 

It  does  but  hide  itself  in  light  on  high, 

To  its  loved  flower  at  twilight  to  return. 


The  fine  gold  has  not  perished,  when  the  flame 
Seizes  upon  it  with  consuming  glow; 

In  freshened  splendor  it  comes  forth  anew, 

To  sparkle  on  the  monarch’s  throne  or  brow. 

Thus  nothing  dies,  or  only  dies  to  live: 

Star,  stream,  sun,  flower,  the  dew-drop,  and  the 
gold; 

Each  goodly  thing,  instinct  with  buoyant  hope, 
Hastes  to  put  on  its  purer,  finer  mould. 

Thus  in  the  quiet  joy  of  kindly  trust, 

We  bid  each  parting  saint  a  brief  farewell ; 


THROUGH  DEATH  TO  LIFE. 


t2 


Weeping,  yet  smiling,  we  commit  tlieir  dust 
To  the  safe  keeping  of  the  silent  cell. 

Softly  within  that  peaceful  resting-place 

We  lay  their  wearied  limbs,  and  bid  the  clay 
Press  lightly  on  them  till  the  night  be  past, 

And  the  far  east  give  note  of  coming  day. 

The  day  of  re-appearing !  how  it  speeds ! 

He  who  is  true  and  faithful  speaks  the  word. 
Then  shall  we  ever  be  with  those  we  love — 

Then  shall  we  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord. 

The  shout  is  heard ;  the  archangel’s  voice  goes 
forth ; 

The  trumpet  sounds ;  the  dead  awake  aud  sing ; 
The  living  put  on  glory  ;  one  glad  band, 

They  hasten  up  to  meet  their  coming  King. 

Short  death  and  darkness  !  Endless  life  and  light ! 

Short  dimming  ;  endless  shining  in  yon  sphere, 
Where  all  is  incorruptible  and  pure ; — 

The  joy  without  the  pain,  the  smile  without  the 
tear. 


HORA  NOVISSIMA. 


Far  down  the  ages  now, 

Her  journey  well-nigh  done, 

The  pilgrim  Church  pursues  her  way, 
In  haste  to  reach  the  crown. 

The  story  of  the  past 

Comes  up  before  her  view; 

How  well  it  seems  to  suit  her  still, 
Old,  and  yet  ever  new. 

’Tis  the  same  story  still, 

Of  sin  and  weariness, 

Of  grace  and  love  still  flowing  dowu 
To  pardon  and  to  bless. 

’Tis  the  old  sorrow  still, 

The  briar  and  the  thorn ; 

And  ’tis  the  same  old  solace  yet — 

The  hope  of  coming  morn. 

5*  y 


54 


DORA  NOVISSIMA. 


No  wider  is  the  gate, 

No  broader  is  the  way, 

No  smoother  is  the  ancient  path 
That  leads  to  light  and  day. 

No  lighter  is  the  load 

Beneath  whose  weight  we  cry. 

No  tamer  grows  the  rebel  flesh, 
Nor  less  our  enemy. 

No  sweeter  is  the  cup, 

Nor  less  our  lot  of  ill ; 

’Twas  tribulation  ages  since, 

’Tis  tabulation  still. 

No  greener  are  the  rocks. 

No  fresher  flow  the  rills, 

No  roses  in  the  wilds  appear, 

No  vines  upon  the  hills. 

Still  dark  the  sky  above, 

And  sharp  the  desert  air , 

’Tis  wide,  bleak  desolation  round, 
And  shadow  everywhere. 


HORA  NO VISS IMA. 


55 


Dawn  lingers  on  yon  cliff; 

But,  oh,  how  slow  to  spring! 

Morning  still  nestles  on  yon  ware, 
Afraid  to  try  its  wing. 

No  slacker  grows  the  fight, 

No  feebler  is  the  foe, 

No  less  the  need  of  armor  tried, 

Of  shield,  and  spear,  and  bow. 

Nor  less  we  feel  the  blank 
Of  earth’s  still  absent  King ; 

Whose  presence  is  of  all  our  bliss 
The  everlasting  spring. 

Thus  onward  still  we  press, 

Through  evil  and  through  good, 

Through  pain,  and  poverty,  and  want, 
Through  peril  and  through  blood. 

Still  faithful  to  our  God, 

And  to  our  Captain  true ; 

We  follow  where  he  leads  the  way, 
The  kingdom  in  our  view. 


THE  NIGHT  COMETH 


Time’s  sun  is  fast  setting, 

Its  twilight  is  nigh. 

Its  evening  is  falling 

o  o 

In  cloud  o’er  the  shy, 

Its  shadows  are  stretching 
In  ominous  gloom  ; 

Its  midnight  approaches, 

The  midnight  of  doom. 

Then  haste,  sinner,  haste,  there  is  mercy  for  diee, 
And  wrath  is  preparing,- — dee,  lingerer,  dee  ! 

Rides  forth  the  fierce  tempest 
On  the  wing  of  the  cloud  ; 

The  moan  of  the  night-blast 
Is  fitful  and  loud  ; 

The  mountains  are  heaving, 

The  forests  are  bowed, 

The  ocean  is  surging, 

Earth  gathers  its  shroud. 

Then  haste,  sinner,  haste,  there  is  mercy  for  thee, 
And  wrath  is  preparing, — flee,  lingerer,  flee  l 


THE  NIGHT  COMETH. 


57 


The  vision  is  nearing — 

The  Judge  and  the  throne  ! — 

The  voice  of  the  Angel 

o 

Proclaims  “It  is  done.” 

On  the  whirl  of  the  tempest 
Its  ruler  shall  come, 

And  the  blaze  of  its  glory 
Flash  out  from  its  gloom, — 

Then  haste,  sinner,  haste,  there  is  mercy7  for  thee, 
And  wrath  is  preparing, — flee,  lingerer,  flee  ! 

With  clouds  He  is  coming  ! 

His  people  shall  sing, 

With  gladness  they  hail  him 
Redeemer  and  King. 

The  iron  rod  wielding, 

The  rod  of  his  ire, 

He  cometh  to  lcindle 
Earth’s  last  fatal  fire  ! 

Then  haste,  sinner,  haste,  there  is  mercy  for  thee, 
And  wrath  is  preparing, — flee,  lingerer,  flee! 


THE  DAY  AFTER  ARMAGEDDON. 


“  They  have  blown  the  trumpet,  but  none  goeth  to  the 
battle.” — Ezek.  vii.  14. 


’Tis  the  summons  to  battle  ! 

But  the  cry  is  unheard  ; 
The  trumpet  has  spoken, 

Not  a  warrior  has  stirred. 

Hark,  the  summons  to  battle ! 

It  has  sounded  again  ; 

Still  louder  and  keener  ; — 

It  has  sounded  in  vain. 

Yet  a  third  time  and  shriller, 
That  war-note  has  blown  ; 
But  the  answer  that  cometli 
Is  the  echo  alone. 


THE  DAY  AFTER  ARMAGEDDON-. 


59 


’Tis  the  silence  of  silence  ! 
Tower,  tent,  vale,  and  hill, 

Field,  forest,  and  highway, — 
All  soundless  and  still ! 

No  challenge  is  lifted, 

No  signal  unfurled ; 

His  man’s  dark  hour  of  terror, 
The  awe  of  the  world. 

For  the  arm  of  Jehovah 

Has  been  bared  in  its  might, 

And  the  sword  of  his  vengeance 
Has  been  burnished  to  smite. 

Through  the  ridges  of  battle 
His  ploughshare  has  sped ; 

And  the  tents  of  the  living 
Are  the  tombs  of  the  dead. 

The  rude  roar  of  millions 
Is  hushed  in  an  hour  ; 

The  array  of  the  mighty 
Is  crushed  in  its  power. 


60 


THE  DAY  AFTER  ARMAGEDDON. 


’Twas  man’s  proudest  muster 
Of  sinew  and  steel : 

His  army  of  armies, 

Mail-clad  to  the  heel. 

No  sun.  had  e’er  dawned  on 
So  fearful  a  day, 

No  trumpet  had  marshalled 
So  dread  an  array. 

As  if  earth  in  her  frenzy, 

From  each  region  afar, 

Had  poured  forth  her  nations 
For  the  shock  of  that  war. 

In  the  flush  of  their  manhood, 
In  the  bud  of  their  prime, 

In  veteran  ripeness, — 

The  men  of  each  clime 

Came  thronging*  and  rushing, 
Like  rivers  in  flood, 

Defying  the  terrors 

And  vengeance  of  God. 


THE  DAY  AFTER  ARMAGEDDON. 


61 


For  the  ruler  of  darkness, 

The  God  of  this  world, 

Had  summoned  his  armies, 

His  banner  unfurled. 

As  the  storm-cloud  it  gathered, 
As  the  lightning  it  sped  ; 

As  the  mist  it  has  vanished  ; — 
All  is  still  as  the  dead. 

* 

Like  the  desert  at  midnight, — 
Not  a  breath  nor  a  beam  ; 

’Tis  the  silence  of  silence, 

The  dream  of  a  dream. 

Now,  chains  for  the  spoiler! 

Dark  and  swift  be  his  doom  ! 
Thou  hast  trodden  the  nations, — 
Thy  treading  is  come  ! 

Earth,  cease  now  thy  wailing, 

Thy  wounds  bleed  no  more  ; 
Lo,  the  curse  is  departing, 

Thy  sorrows  are  o’er  ! 

6 


62 


THE  DAY  AFTFR  ARMAGEDDON, 


Rise,  daughter  of  Judali ; 

Awake  now  and  sing  ; 

It  has  come,  the  glad  kingdom, 
He  has  come,  the  great  King! 

Thy  long  night  is  ending 
Of  sorrow  and  wrong ; 

For  shame  there  is  glory. 

For  weeping  a  song. 

The  new  morn  is  dawning, 
Bursts  forth  the  new  sun  ; 

The  new  verdure  is  smiling, 

The  new  age  is  begun. 


REST  YONDER. 


This  is  not  my  place  of  resting, 

Mine ’s  a  city  yet  to  come ; 

Onward  to  it  I  am  hasting — 

On  to  my  eternal  home. 

In  it  all  is  light  and  glory, 

O’er  it  shines  a  nightless  day ; 

Every  trace  of  sin’s  sad  story. 

All  the  curse,  has  passed  away. 

There  the  Lamb,  our  Shepherd,  leads  us, 
By  the  streams  of  life  along ; 

On  the  freshest  pastures  feeds  us, 

Turns  our  sighing  into  song. 

Soon  we  pass  this  desert  dreary, 

Soon  we  bid  farewell  to  pain ; 

Never  more  be  sad  or  weary, 

Never,  never  sin  again. 


HOW  LONG! 


Do  they  still  linger — these  slow-treading  ages  ? 

How  long  must  we  still  bear  their  cold  delay? 
Streak  after  streak  the  glowing  dawn  presages ; 

And  yet  it  breaks  not — the  expected  day  ! 

Each  tossing  year,  with  prophet-lip  hath  spoken, 

“  Prepare  your  praises,  earth  awake  and  sing  !” 
And  yet  yon  dome  of  blue  remains  unbroken  ; 

No  tidings  yet  of  the  descending  King  ! 

Darkness  still  darkens;  nearer  now  and  nearer 
The  lightnings  gleam  ;  the  sea’s  scorched  billow's 
moan  ; 

And  the  sere  leaf  of  earth  is  growing  serer; 

Creation  droops,  and  heaves  a  bitterer  groan. 

0  storm  and  earthquake,  wind  and  warring  thunder, 
Your  hour  is  coming  !  One  wild  outburst  more, 
One  other  day  of  w'ar,  and  wreck,  and  plunder ; 

And  then  your  desolating  reign  is  o’er. 


HOW  LONG ! 


65 


Those  plains  are  not  your  battle-field  for  ever ; 

That  glassy  deep  was  never  made  for  you; 

These  mountains  were  not  built  for  you  t  >  shiver; 
These  buds  are  not  for  your  rude  hands,  to  strew. 

Flee  and  give  back  to  earth  its  verdant  gladness, 

The  early  freshness  of  its  unsoiled  dev/  ; 

Take  hence  your  sackcloth,  with  its  stormy  sadness  ; 

And  let  these  wrinkled  skies  their  youth  renew. 

•/ 

Give  back  that  day  of  days,  the  seventh  and  fairest, 
When,  like  a  gem  new-set,  earth  flung  afar 
Her  glory,  of  creation’s  gems  the  rarest, 

Sparkling  in  beauty  to  each  kindred  star. 

Come  back,  thou  holy  love,  so  rudely  banished, 
When  evil  came,  and  hate,  and  fear,  and  wrong ; 
Return,  thou  joyous  light,  so  quickly  vanished  ; 
Revive,  thou  life  that  death  has  quenched  so  long 

Re-fix,  re-knit  the  chain  so  harshly  broken, 

That  bound  this  lower  orb  to  yon  bright  heaven ; 
Hang  out  on  high  the  ever-golden  token, 

That  tells  of  earth  renewed  and  man  forgiven. 

6* 


66 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 


Withdraw  the  veil  that  has  for  ages  hidden 
That  upper  kingdom  from  this  nether  sphere ; 
Renew  the  fellowship  so  long  forbidden  ; 

0  God,  thyself  take  up  thy  dwelling  here  \ 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 

Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping 
I  shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 
Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  blooming  and  the  fading, 
I  shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  shining  and  the  shading, 
Beyond  the  hoping  and  the  dreading, 
I  shall  be  soon. 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 


61 


Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  rising  and  the  setting 
I  shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  calming  and  the  fretting, 
Beyond  remembering  and  forgetting, 

I  shall  be  soon, 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tany  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  gathering  and  the  strowing 
I  shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  ebbing  and  the  flowing, 
Beyond  the  coming  and  the  going, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  parting  and  the  meeting 
I  shall  be  soon. 


68 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 


Beyond  the  farewell  and  the  greeting. 
Beyond  this  pulse’s  fever-beating, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  end  home  ! 

Sweet  hope  ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  frost-chain  and  the  fever 
I  shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  rock-waste  and  the  river* 
Beyond  the  ever  and  the  never, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home ! 

Sweet  hope  ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  corns. 


NOT  VERY  FAR. 


Surely,  yon  heaven,  where  angels  see  God’s  face, 
Is  not  so  distant  as  we  deem 

From  this  low  earth  ?  ’Tis  but  a  little  space, 

The  narrow  crossing  of  a  slender  stream  ; 

’Tis  but  a  veil,  which  winds  might  blow  aside  : 

Fes,  these  are  all  that  us  of  earth  divide, 

From  the  bright  dwelling  of  the  glorified, — 

The  Land  of  which  I  dream  ! 

These  peaks  are  nearer  heaven  than  earth  below, 
These  hills  are  higher  than  they  seem  ; 

’Tis  not  the  clouds  they  touch,  nor  the  soft  browr 
Of  the  o’er-bending  azure  as  we  deem. 

’Tis  the  blue  floor  of  heaven  that  they  up-bear  ; 

And  like  some  old  and  wildly  rugged  stair, 

They  lift  us  to  the  land  where  all  is  fair, — 

The  Land  of  which  I  dream  ! 

These  ocean-waves,  in  their  unmeasured  sweep, 
Are  brighter,  bluer,  than  they  seem  ; 


10 


NOT  VERY  FAR, 


True  image  here  of  the  celestial  deep, — - 

Fed  from  the  fulness  of  the  unfailing  stream,- — 
Heaven’s  glassy  sea  of  everlasting  rest, 

With  not  a  breath  to  stir  its  silent  breast, 

The  sea  that  laves  the  land  where  all  are  blest,-— 
The  Land  of  which  I  dream  ! 

Aud  these  keen  stars,  the  bridal  gems  of  Night, 

Are  purer,  lovelier,  than  they  seem  ; 

Filled  from  the  inner  fountain  of  deep  light, 

They  pour  down  heaven’s  own  beam ; 
Clear-speaking  from  their  throne  of  glorious  blue, 

In  accents  ever  ancient,  ever  new, 

Of  the  glad  home  above,  beyond  our  view, — • 

The  Land  of  which  I  dream  ! 

This  life  of  ours,  these  lingering  years  of  earth, 

Are  briefer,  swifter,  than  they  seem  ; 

A  little  while,  and  the  great  second  birth 

Of  time  shall  come,  the  prophet’s  ancient  theme  1 
Then  He,  the  King,  the  Judge  at  length  shall  come, 
And  for  this  desert,  where  we  sadly  roam, 

Shall  give  the  kingdom  for  our  endless  home, — - 
The  Land  of  which  I  dream  ! 


THE  EVERLASTING  MEMORIAL, 


Up  and  away,  like  tlie  dew  of  the  morning’, 

Soaring  from  earth  to  its  home  in  the  sun,— 

So  let  me  steal  away,  gently  and  lovingly, 

Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

My  name  and  my  place  and  my  tomb,  all  forgotten, 
The  brief  race  of  time  well  and  patiently  run. 

So  let  me  pass  away,  peacefully,  silently, 

Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Gladly  away  from  this  toil  would  I  hasten, 

Up  to  the  crown  that  for  me  has  been  won ; 

Unthought  of  by  man  in  rewards  or  in  praises, — » 
Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Up  and  away,  like  the  odors  of  sunset, 

That  sweeten  the  twilight  as  darkness  comes  on,— 

So  be  my  life,— a  thing  felt  but  not  noticed, 

And  I  but  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 


72 


THE  EVERLASTING  MEMORIAL. 


Yes,  like  the  fragrance  that  wanders  in  freshness, 
When  the  flowers  that  it  came  from  are  closed  jp 
and  gone, — 

So  wrnuld  I  be  to  this  world’s  weary  dwellers, 

Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Needs  there  the  praise  of  the  love-written  record, 

The  name  and  the  epitaph  graved  on  the  stone  ? 

4 

The  things  wTe  have  lived  for, — let  them  be  our  story, 
We  ourselves  but  remembered  by  what  wre  have 
done. 

I  need  not  be  missed,  if  my  life  has  been  bearing 
(As  its  summer  and  autumn  moved  silently  on) 
The  bloom,  and  the  fruit,  and  the  seed  of  its  season ; 
I  shall  still  be  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 


I  need  not  be  missed,  if  another  succeed  me, 

To  reap  down  those  fields  which  in  spring  I  have 
sown ; 

He  who  ploughed  and  who  sowed  is  not  missed  by 
the  reaper, 

He  is  only  remembered  by  what  he  has  done. 


THE  EVERLASTING  MEMORIAL.  73 

Not  myself,  but  the  truth  that  in  life  I  have  spoken, 
Not  myself,  but  the  seed  that  in  life  I  have  sown, 
Shall  pass  on  to  ages, — all  about  me  forgotten, 

Save  the  truth  I  have  spoken,  the  things  I  have 
done. 

So  let  my  living  be,  so  be  my  dying ; 

So  let  my  name  lie,  unblazoned,  unknown ; 
Unpraised  and  unmissed,  I  shall  still  be  remembered; 
Yes, — but  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

7 


OUR  ONE  LIFE. 


^is  not  for  man  to  trifle  !  Life  is  brief, 
And  sin  is  here. 

Our  age  is  but  the  falling  of  a  leaf, 

A  dropping  tear. 

We  have  no  time  to  sport  away  the  hours, 
All  must  be  earnest  in  a  world  like  ours. 


Not  many  lives,  but  only  one  have  we, — 
One,  only  one  ; — - 

How  sacred  should  that  one  life  ever  be- — 
That  narrow  span  ! — 

Hay  after  day  tilled  up  with  blessed  toil, 
Hour  after  hour  still  bringing  in  new  spoil. 


Our  being  is  no  shadow  of  thin  air, 

No  vacant  dream, 

No  fable  of  the  things  that  never  were, 
But  only  seem. 


OUR  ONE  LIFE. 


75 


’Tis  full  of  meaning  as  of  mystery, 

Though  strange  and  solemn  may  that  meaning  be. 

Our  sorrows  are  no  phantom  of  the  night, 

No  idle  tale ; 

No  cloud  that  floats  along  a  shy  of  light, 

On  summer  gale. 

They  are  the  true  realities  of  earth, 

Friends  and  companions  even  from  our  birth. 

O  life  belowT— how  brief,  and  poor,  and  sad  1 
One  heavy  sigh. 

O  life  above — how  long,  how  fair,  and  glad ; 

An  endless  joy. 

Oh,  to  be  done  with  daily  dying  here ; 

Oh,  to  begin  the  living  in  yon  sphere ! 

O  day  of  time,  how  dark  !  O  sky  and  earth, 

How  dull  your  hue  ; 

0  day  of  Christ — how  bright!  O  sky  and  earth, 
Made  fair  and  new  ! 

Come,  better  Eden,  with  thy  fresher  green ; 

Come,  brighter  Salem,  gladden  all  the  scene ! 


THE  CONSOLATION. 


The  storm  has  broken,  and  the  heavy  blast, 

That  stifled  morn’s  free  breath  and  shook  its  dew, 

Is  dying  into  sunshine  ;  and  the  hist 
Dull  cloud  has  vanished  from  yon  arch  of  blue. 

I  know  it  is  but  for  a  day ;  the  war 

Must  soon  be  waged  again  ’twixt  earth  and  heaven  ; 

Another  tempest  will  arise  to  mar 

The  tranquil  beauty  of  the  fragrant  even. 

And  yet  I  joy  as  storm  on  storm  awakes ; — 

Not  that  I  love  the  uproar  or  the  gloom  ; 

But  in  each  tempest  over  earth  that  breaks, 

I  count  one  fewer  outburst  yet  to  come. 

No  groan  creation  heaves  is  heaved  in  vain, 

Nor  e’er  shall  be  repeated ;  it  is  done. 

Once  heaved  it  never  shall  be  heaved  again  ; 

Earth’s  pangs  and  throes  are  lessening  one  by  one. 


THE  CONSOLATION. 


11 


So  falls  the  stroke  of  sorrow,  and  so  springs 

•  x  O 

Strange  joy  and  comfort  from  the  very  grief, 
Even  to  the  weariest  sufferer  ;  so  brings 
Each  heavy  burden  still  its  own  relief. 

One  cross  the  less  remains  for  me  to  bear  ;  * 
Already  borne  is  that  of  yesterday  ; 

That  of  to-day  shall  no  to-morrow  share ; 
To-morrow’s,  with  itself,  shall  pass  away. 

That  which  is  added  to  the  troubled  past 
Is  taken  from  the  future,  whose  sad  store 
Grows  less  and  less  each  day,  till  soon  the  last 
Dull  wave  of  woe  shall  break  upon  our  shore. 

The  storm  that  yesterday  ploughed  up  the  sea 
Is  buried  now  beneath  its  level  blue ; 

One  storm  the  fewer  now  remains  for  me, 

Ere  sky  and  earth  are  made  for  ever  new. 

» 

7* 


THE  REAL. 


There  are  no  dreams  beyond  tbe  tomb  ! 

The  night  of  dreams  is  o’er ; 

’Tis  only  here  they  go  and  come, 

On  this  dull,  shadowy  shore. 

When  we  arise  from  off  this  restless  couch 
Of  weariness  and  pain, 

When  death  awakes  us  with  his  stony  touch 
Never  to  sleep  again  ; 

Then  shadows  vanish  ;  the  invisible 
Rises  before  our  view  ; 

On  every  side  comes  up  the  real, 

The  certain,  and  the  true. 

And  when  the  morn  of  morns  shall  come, 
The  resurrection-day, 

Then  yet  more  real  shall  all  become, 

Amd  shadows  pass  away. 


THE  REAL. 


h/9 

How  true  and  great  that  world  must  be, 

How  false,  how  little  this ! 

Mau  sees  not  what  he  seems  to  see. 

He  seems  not  what  he  is. 

Here  is  the  hollow  and  untrue ; 

This  is  the  night  of  dreams ; 

Thickly  overspread  with  mist  and  dew, 

Earth  is  not  what  it  seems. 

9 

Each  morn  is  coming  with  its  light, 

O  O  1 

To  chase  each  shade  and  ill, 

Then  time’s  vain  beauty  shall  take  bight, 

Like  rainbow  from  the  hill. 

And  truth  returneth  from  on  high  ; 

Gone  is  the  night  of  dreams. 

Gone  is  the  shadow  and  the  lie, — 

Earth  shall  be  what  it  seems. 


NOT  HERE. 


Softly  tbe  winds  were  fanning  tliis  fresh  cheek, 
When  heedless  boyhood  loved  to  dream  and  stray 
I  loved  earth’s  skies,  nor  deemed  them  sad  or  bleak : 

Its  fields  seemed  still  to  breathe  of  joyous  May. 

I  said,  what  better  home  shall  this  heart  seek  ? 

Here  let  me  dwell  for  aye. 

Cold  winter  smote,  frosts  nipped,  sore  tempests  broke. 
And  the  dark  cloud  shut  out  the  beauteous  day ; 
The  fair  flower  perished,  and  the  blast’s  rude  shock 
Struck  the  strong  pine,  and  swept  its  pride  away ; 
My  fond  dream  passed,  I  said,  as  I  awoke. 

“  I  would  not  live  ahvay.” 

Yet  would  I  not  turn  back,  nor  faint,  nor  sigh, 

Nor  shun  the  war,  nor  murmur  at  the  doom  ; 

I  see  the  beacon-light  of  yonder  sky 

Beyond  the  earth  and  sea — beyond  the  tomb  I 
And  then  I  say,  “  0  Saviour,  ever  nigh, 

Light  me  through  this  cold  gloom  ” 


NOT  NOW 


Days  come  and  go, 

In  joy  or  woe ; 

Days  go  and  come, 

In  endless  sum. 

Only  tlie  eternal  day 
Shall  come  but  never  go 
Only  the  eternal  tide 

Shall  never  ebb  but  flow. 

0  long  eternity, 

Mv  soul  goes  forth  to  thee ! 

4/  O 

Suns  set  and  rise 
In  these  dull  skies, 

Suns  rise  and  set, 

Till  men  forget, 

The  day  is  at  the  door, 

When  they  shall  rise  no  more. 
0  everlasting  Sun, 

Whose  race  is  never  run, 

Be  thou  my  endless  light, 
Then  shall  I  fear  no  night ! 


LIGHT’S  TEACHINGS. 


» 


The  light  is  ever  silent; 

It  calls  up  voices  over  sea  and  earth. 

And  fills  the  glowing  air  with  harmonies, 

The  lark’s  gay  chant,  the  note  of  forest-dove, 

The  lamb’s  quick  bleat,  and  the  bee’s  earnest  hum, 
The  sea-bird’s  winged  wail  upon  the  wave. 

It  wakes  the  voice  of  childhood,  soft  and  clear; 
The  city’s  noisy  rush,  the  village-stir, 

And  the  world’s  mighty  murmur  that  had  sunk, 
For  a  short  hour,  to  sleep  upon  the  down 
That  darkness  spread  for  wearied  limbs  and  eyes. 
But  still  it  sounds  not,  speaks  not,  whispers  not ! 
Not  one  faint  throb  of  its  vast  pulse  is  hoard 
By  creature-ear.  How  silent  is  the  light ! 

Even  wrhen  of  old  it  wakened  Memnon’s  lyre, 

It  breathed  no  music  of  its  own  ;  and  still. 

When  at  sweet  sunrise,  on  its  golden  wings, 

It  brings  the  melodies  of  dawn  to  man, 

It  scatters  them  in  silence  o’er  the  earth. 


LIGHi’s  TEACHINGS. 


83 


The  light  is  ever  silent ; 

It  sparkles  on  morn’s  million  gems  of  dew, 

It  flings  itself  into  the  shower  of  noon, 

It  weaves  its  gold  into  the  cloud  of  sunset — 

Yet  not  a  sound  is  heard  ;  it  dashes  full 
On  yon  broad  rock,  yet  not  an  echo  answers  ; 

It  lights  in  myriad  drops  upon  the  flower, 

Yet  not  a  blossom  stirs,  it  does  not  move 

'  i 

.  The  slightest  film  of  floating  gossamer, 

Which  the  faint  touch  of  insect’s  wing  would  shiver. 

The  light  is  ever  silent; 

Most  silent  of  all  heavenly  silences; 

Not  even  the  darkness  stiller,  nor  so  still ; 

Too  swift  for  sound  or  speech,  it  rushes  on 
Right  through  the  yielding  skies,  a  massive  flood 
Of  multitudinous  beams  ;  an  endless  sea, 

That  flows  but  ebbs  not,  breaking  on  the  shore 
Of  this  dark  earth,  with  never-ceasing  wave, 

Yet  in  its  swiftest  flow,  or  fullest  spring-tide, 
Giving  less  sound  than  does  one  falling  blossom, 
Which  the  May  breeze  lays  lightly  on  the  sward. 

Such  let  my  life  be  here ; 

Not  marked  by  noise  but  by  success  alone ; 


84 


light’s  teachings. 


Not  known  by  bustle  but  by  useful  deeds, 
Quiet  and  gentle,  clear  and  fair  as  light ; 

Yet  full  of  its  all-penetrating*  power, 

Its  silent  but  resistless  influence  ; 

Wasting  no  needless  sound,  yet  ever  working, 
Hour  after  hour,  upon  a  needy  world. 

Sunshine  is  ever  calm  ; 

There  are  no  tempests  in  yon  sea  of  beams, 
That  bright  Pacific  on  whose  peaceful  bosom 
All  happy  things  come  floating  down  to  us. 
Light  has  no  hurricane,  no  angry  blast, 

No  turbid  torrent  laying  'waste  our  plains. 
Morn  after  morn  goes  by,  and  the  fresh  light. 
Pours  in  upon  the  darkness,  yet  no  storm 
Awakes,  no  eddy  stirs  the  tranquil  glow  ; 

No  crested  billow  rises,  and  no  foam 
Drifting  along,  tells  of  some  tumult  past. 

Sunshine  is  ever  strong ; 

No  blast  can  break  or  bend  one  single  ray ; 

In  seven-fold  strength  it  faces  wrave  and  wind 
Heedless  of  their  opposing  turbulence, 

It  passes  through  them  in  its  quiet  power, 
Unruffled,  and  unbroken,  and  unbent. 


light’s  teachings. 


85 


No  might  of  armies,  and  no  rage  of  storms, 

Can  turn  aside  one  sunbeam  from  its  path, 

Or  bate  its  speed,  or  force  it  back  again 
To  the  far  fountain-head  from  whence  it  came. 

Sunshine  is  ever  pure  ; 

No  art  of  man  can  rob  it  of  its  beauty, 

Nor  stain  its  unpolluted  heavenliness. 

It  is  the  fairest,  purest  thing  in  nature, 

Fit  type  of  that  fair  heaven  where  all  is  pure, 

And  into  which  no  evil  thing  can  enter, 

Where  darkness  comes  not,  where  no  shadow  falls, 
Where  night  and  sin  can  have  no  dwelling-place. 

Sunshine  is  ever  joyous  ; 

Its  birthplace  is  in  yon  bright  orb  which  flings, 
O’er  cliff  and  vale  its  wealth  of  rosv  smiles. 

Each  sunbeam  seems  the  very  soul  of  joy ; 

No  sadness  soils  it ;  scattering  gladsomeness, 

Like  a  bright  angel,  onward  still  it  moves. 

The  very  churchyard  brightens  as  the  ray 
Alights  upon  its  tombstones,  and  the  turf 
Seems  strangely  heaving  to  the  radiant  glow, 

As  if  fore-dating  the  expected  sunrise, 

When,  at  the  first  gleam  of  the  Morning-Star 

8 


86 


earth’s  beauty. 


The  faithful  giave  shall  render  up  its  treasure, 

And  sunshine,  such  as  earth  has  never  known, 

Shall  fill  these  skies  with  mirth,  and  smiles,  and 
beauty 

Erasing  each  sad  wrinkle  from  their  brow, 

Which  the  long  curse  had  deeply  graven  there. 


EARTH’S  BEAUTY. 


Where  the  wave  murmurs  not, 

Where  the  gust  eddies  not, 

Where  the  stream  rushes  not, 

Where  the  cliff  shadows  not, 

Where  the  wood  darkens  not, 

I  would  not  be ! 

Bright  tho’  the  heavens  were, 

Rich  tho’  the  flowers  there, 

Sweet  tlio’  the  fragrant  air, 

And  all  as  Eden  fair, 

Yet  as  a  dweller  there, 

I  would  not  be  ! 

O  wave,  and  breeze,  and  rill,  and  rock,  and  wood, 
Was  it  not  God  himself  that  called  you  good  ? 


THE  NIGHT  AND  THE  MORNING. 


To  dream  a  troubled  dream,  and  then  awaken 
To  the  soft  gladness  of  a  summer  sky ; 

To  dream  ourselves  alone,  unloved,  forsaken, 

And  then  to  wake  ’mid  smiles,  and  love,  and  joy ; 

To  look  at  evening  on  the  storm’s  rude  motion, 

The  cloudy  tumult  of  the  fretted  deep  ; 

And  then  at  day-burst  upon  that  same  ocean, 

Soothed  to  the  stillness  of  its  stillest  sleep — 

So  runs  our  course — so  tells  the  church  her  story, 

So  to  the  end  shall  it  be  ever  told ; 

Brief  shame  on  earth,  but  after  shame  the  glory,  * 

That  wanes  not,  dims  not,  never  waxes  old. 

Lord  Jesus,  come,  and  end  this  troubled  dreaming ! 

Dark  shadows  vanish,  rosy  twilight  break  ! 

Morn  of  the  true  and  real,  burst  forth,  calm-beaming 
Day  of  the  beautiful,  arise,  awake ! 


HOPE  OF  HAY. 


Till  the  day  dawn, 

And  tlie  Day-star  arise — 

Father,  0  keep  thy  son, 

Thy  feeble,  faithless  one ! 

0  guide  him  through  the  waste, 

Till  the  long  gloom  be  past. 

It  is  a  night  of  fear  ; 

The  path  is  rough  and  drear; 

Clouds  frown,  blasts  rush  along, 

The  tempests  gather  strong ; 

Strange  perils  compass  me, 

Of  flood,  fire,  rock,  and  sea  ; 

Yet  I,  in  loneliness, 

Would  fain  still  onward  press. 

0  felt  and  known,  but  yet  unseen,  be  nigh  ; 

0  loved  and  longed-for,  hear  each  hidden  sigh  ; 
Leave  me  not,  struggling  thus,  to  sink  and  die. 

Till  the  day  dawn, 

And  the  Day-star  arise — 


HOPE  OF  DAY. 


89 


0  Saviour,  let  thy  love, 

Down  dropping  from  above, 

This  withered  soul  renew 
With  thy  flower-freshening  dew  ! 

0  never-changing  Friend, 

My  failii  i g  steps  attend  ; 

Hold  tliou  me  up,  and  so 
I  shall  pass  safely  through. 

Still  keep  me  at  thy  side, 

Thou  who  for  me  hast  died  ; 

0  light  me  on  my  way, 

My  joy,  my  strength,  my  stay. 

O  clasp  me  closer  to  thy  pierced  side, 

Thou  who  for  me  the  death  of  deaths  hast  died  ; 
Let  not  this  staggering  faith  be  too  too  sorely  tried. 

Till  the  day  dawn, 

And  the  Day-star  arise — 

Spirit  of  gentle  love, 

Thou  tempest-calming  dove, 

Come,  and  within  me  dwell, 

Come,  and  all  gloom  dispel. 

Most  blessed  Comforter, 

My  weary  footsteps  cheer. 

8* 


90 


HOPE  OF  DAY. 


O  light  and  lamp  divine, 

Upon  my  midnight  shine, 

Better  than  star  or  moon, 

Brighter  than  day’s  bright  noon, 

O  let  thy  joyous  ray 
Turn  all  my  night  to  day. 

When  thou  art  absent,  even  my  joy  is  sad, 
When  thou  art  with  me,  even  my  grief  is  glad ; 
Let  not  thy  silence  now  sorrow  to  sorrow  arid. 

Till  the  day  dawn, 

And  the  Day-star  arise — 

Church  of  the  living  God, 

Pursue  thy  upward  road  ; 

Look  not  behind  nor  stray 
From  the  well-trodden  way. 

Be  not  ashamed  to  bear 
Thy  cross  on  earth,  nor  fear 
Reproach  and  poverty, 

For  him  who  died  for  thee.  . 

With  girded  loins  press  on, 

Till  the  reward  is  won. 

Think  of  thy  absent  Lord, 

Hold  fast  thy  plighted  word. 


DAY-SFFING. 


91 


Doff  not  thy  weeds  of  widowhood,  nor  fear 
To  let  the  world,  thro’  which  thou  passest,  hear 
The  widow’s  cry,  and  see  the  widow’s  faithful  tear. 


I 

DAY-SPRING. 

The  loving  morn  is  springing 
From  night’s  unloving  gloom  ; 
And  earth  seems  now  arising 

o 

In  beauty  from  the  tomb, 


See  daylight  far  above  us, 

Tinging  each  cloudy  wreath, 

Ere  it  showers  itself  in  splendor 
Upon  the  plain  beneath. 

’Tis  sparkling  on  the  mountain-peak, 
’T  is  hurrying  down  the  vale, 

’T  is  bursting  thro’  the  forest-boughs, 
’Tis  freshening  in  the  gale. 


92 


D  AY'-SPRTNTG. 


’T  is  mingling  with  the  river’s  smile, 
’Tis  glistening  in  the  dew, 

’T  is  flinging  far  its  silver  not, 

O’er  ocean’s  braided  blue. 

’T  is  blushing  o’er  the  meadow’s  gold, 
’Tis  lighting  on  the  flower, 

Unfolding  every  gentle  bud 
To  the  gladness  of  the  hour. 

’Tis  gilding  the  old  ruin’s  moss, 

\  ’T  is  gleaming  from  the  spire  ; 

And  thro’  the  crumbling  window-shafts 
It  shoots  its  living  fire. 

’T  is  quivering  in  the  village  smoke 
That  curls  the  low  roof  o’er  ; 

It  beats  against  the  castle  gate, 

And  at  the  cottage  door. 

O’er  the  church-yard  it  is  resting, - 
On  stone,  and  grass,  and  mould, 

Giving  voice  to  each  grey  tombstone, 
As  to  Memnon’s  harp  of  old. 


DAY-STRING. 


93 


0  the  gay  burst  of  beauty 
That  is  flushing  over  earth, 

And  calling  forth  its  millions 
To  holy  morning  mirth  ! 

Yet  look  we  for  a  sunrise 
More  beautiful  than  this ; 

And  watch  we  for  a  dawning 
Of  purer  light  and  bliss. 

When  a  far  fairer  morning 
O’er  greener  hills  shall  rise. 

And  a  far  fresher  sunlight 
Look  down  from  bluer  skies. 

Is  not  creation  weary  ? 

Has  sin  not  reigned  too  long  ? 

Hear,  Lord,  thy  Church’s  pleading, 
Come,  end  her  day  of  wrong  ! 


DUST  TO  DUST 


Dust  receive  thy  kindred  ! 

Earth  take  now  thine  own  I 
To  thee  this  trust  is  rendered  ; 

In  thee  this  seed  is  sown. 

Guard  the  precious  treasure, 
Ever-faifhful  tomb! 

Keep  it  all  unrifled, 

Till  the  Master  come. 

Time’s  tide  of  change  and  uproar 
Breaks  above  thy  head  ; 

Feet  of  restless  millions 
O’er  tli v  chambers  tread. 

Earthquakes,  whirlwinds,  tempests, 
Tear  the  quivering  ground  ; 
Voices,  trumpets,  thunders, 

Fill  the  air  around. 


BUST  TO  DUST. 


96 


Hoar  of  raging  battle  ; 

Sliout,  and  shriek,  and  wail, 

Startle  even  the  bravest, 

Turn  the  fresh  cheek  pale. 

Torrent  rolled  on  torrent, 
Bursts  o’er  bank  and  bar,—* 

Sweeping  down  our  valleys, 
Swells  the  rising  war. 

Billow  meeting  billow, 

Beats  the  shattered  strand, 

Housing  ocean-echoes, 

Shaking  sea  and  land. 

But  these  sonuds  of  terror 
Pierce  not  this  low  tomb ; 

Nor  break  the  happy  slumbers 
Of  this  quiet  home. 

Couch  of  the  tranquil  si  umbel 
For  the  weary  brow  ; 

Best  of  the  faint  and  toiling, 
Take  this  loved  one  now.  . 


DUST  TO  DUST. 


9rf 


Turf  of  the  shaded  church-yard, 
W  arder  of  the  clay, 

Watch  the  toil-worn  sleeper, 
Till  the  awaking  day.  ' 

Watch  the  well-loved  sleeper, 
Guard  that  placid  form  ; 

Fold  around  it  gently ; 

Shield  it  from  alarm. 

Clasp  it  kindly,  fondly, 

To  cherish,  not  destroy ; 

Clasp  it  as  the  mother 
Clasps  her  nestling  joy. 

Guard  the  precious  treasui^ 
Ever  faithful  tomb ; 

Keep  it  all  unrifled 
T>'1  the  Master  come. 


ARISE  AND  DEPART. 


Brethren,  arise, 

Let  us  go  hence  ! 

Defiled,  polluted  thus, 

This  is  no  home  for  us ; 

Till  earth  is  purified, 

We  may  not  here  abide. 

We  were  not  born  for  earth,— 
The  city  of  our  birth, 

The  better  paradise, 

Is  far  above  these  skies. 
Upward  then  let  us  soar, 
Cleaving  to  dust  no  more  1 

Brethren,  arise, 

Let  us  go  hence ! 

Death  and  the  grave  are  hero, 
The  sick-bed  and  the  bier. 

The  children  of  the  tomb 

May  love  this  kindred  gloom  ; 
9 


98 


ARISE  AND  DEPART. 


But  we,  the  deathless  band. 
Must  see  the  deathless  land. 
The  mortal  here  may  rove, 

The  immortal  dwell  above. 
Here  we  can  only  die, 

Let  us  ascend  on  high  I 

V 

Brethren,  arise, 

Let  us  go  hence  ! 

For  we  are  weary  here. 

The  ever-falling  tear, 

The  ever-swelling  sigh, 

The  sorrow  ever  nigh, 

The  sin  still  flowing  on. 
Creation’s  ceaseless  groan. 

The  tumult  near  and  far, 

The  universal  war, 

The  sounds  that  never  cease,-»*« 
These  are  our  weariness  ! 

Brethren,  arise, 

Let  us  go  hence  ! 

This  is  not  our  abode  ; 

Too  far,  too  far  from  God  l 


/ 


ARISE  AND  DEPART. 


99 


The  angels  dwell  not  here  ; 
There  falls  not  on  the  ear 
The  everlasting  song, 

From  the  celestial  throng. 

’Tis  discord  here  alone, 

Earth’s  melody  is  gone  , 

Her  harp  lies  broken  now  ; 
Her  praise  has  ceased  to  flow  ! 

Brethren,  arise, 

Let  us  go  hence ! 

The  New  Jerusalem, 

Like  a  resplendent  gem, 

Sends  down  its  heavenly  light, 
Attracting  our  dull  sight. 

I  see  the  bright  ones  wait 
At  each  fair  pearly  gate  ; 

I  hear  their  voices  call ; 

I  see  the  jasper  Avail, 

The  clear  translucent  gold, 

The  glory  all  untold  ! 

Brethren,  arise, 

Let  us  go  hence  ! 


100 


THE  KINGDOM. 


What  are  earth’s  joys  and  gems, 
What  are  its  diadems  ? 

Our  crowns  are  waiting  us 
Within  our  Father’s  house. 

Our  friends  above  the  skies 
Are  bidding  us  arise  ; 

Our  Lord,  he  calls  away 
To  scenes  of  sweeter  day 
Than  this  sad  earth  can  know. 
Let  us  arise  and  2:0  ! 


THE  KINGDOM. 

Peace  !  earth’s  last  battle  has  been  won  ; 

Its  days  of  conflict  now  are  o’er  ; 

The  Prince  of  peace  ascends  the  throne, 
And  war  has  ceased  from  shore  to  shore. 

Rest !  the  world’s  day  of  toil  is  past ; 

Each  storm  is  hushed  above,  below, 
Creation’s  joy  has  come  at  last, 

After  six  thousand  years  of  woe. 

* 


THE  KINGDOM. 


101 


Messiah  reigns  !  earth’s  king  has  come  ! 

Its  diadems  are  on  his  brow, 

Its  rebel  kingdoms  have  become 
His  everlasting  kingdom  now. 

This  earth  again  is  Paradise  ; 

The  desert  blossoms  as  the  rose ; 
Clothed  in  its  robes  of  bridal  bliss, 
Creation  has  forgot  its  woes. 

O,  long-expected,  absent  long, 

Star  of  creation’s  troubled  gloom  ! 

Let  heaven  and  earth  break  forth  in  song, 
Messiah  !  Saviour  !  art  thou  come  ? 

For  thou  hast  bought  us  with  thy  blood, 
And  thou  wast  slain  to  set  us  free  ; 
Thou  mad’st  us  kings  and  priests  to  God, 
And  we  shall  reign  on  earth  with  thee  ! 

9* 


NEWLY  FALLEN  ASLEEP 


Past  all  pain  for  ever, 

Done  with  sickness  now ; 

Let  ine  close  thine  eyes,  mother, 
Let  me  smooth  thy  brow. 
Rest  and  health  and  gladness, — 
These  thy  portions  now  ; 

Let  me  press  thy  band,  mother, 
Let  me  kiss  thy  brow. 

Eyes  that  shall  never  weep, 
Life’s  tears  all  shed, 

Its  farewells  said, — 

These  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  would  that  they  were  mine  ! 

• 

A  brow  without  a  shade, 

Each  wrinkle  smoothed, 
Each  throbbing  soothed, 


NEWLY  FALLEN  AoLEEP. 


103 


That  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  would  that  it  were  mine  ! 

A  tongue  that  stammers  not 
In  tuneful  praise, 

Through  endless  days, 
That  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee. 

O  would  that  it  were  mine ! 

A  voice  that  trembles  not ; 

All  quivering  past, 

Death’s  sigh  the  last, — 
That  shall  be  thine ! 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  would  that  it  were  mine  ! 

Limbs  that  shall  never  tire, 

Nor  ask  to  rest, 

In  service  blest, — 

These  shall  be  thine ! 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  would  that  they  were  mine  ! 


104 


NEWLY  FALLEN  ASLEEP. 


A  frame  that  cannot  ache ; 
Earth’s  labors  done, 

Life’s  battle  won, — 

That  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee ; 

0,  would  that  it  were  mine ! 

A  heart  that  flutters  not ; 

No  timid  throb,  ' 

No  quick-breathed  sob,— 
That  shall  be  thine  l 

All  well  with  thee ; 

O,  would  that  it  were  mine ! 

A  will  that  swerveth  not 
At  frown  or  smile, 

At  threat  or  wile, — 

That  shall  be  thine ! 

All  well  with  thee ; 

0,  would  that  it  were  mine  ! 

A  soul  still  upward  bent 
On  higher  flight, 

With  wing  of  light, — 

o  o  / 


NEWLY  FALLEN  ASLEEP. 


105 


That  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  w'ould  that  it  were  mine  ! 

Hours  without  fret  or  care  ; 

The  race  Avell  run, 

The  prize  well  Avon, — 

These  shall  be  thine  ? 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  Avould  that  they  were  mine ! 

Days  Avithout  toil  or  grief; 

Time’s  burdens  borne 
With  strength  well-worn, — 
These  shall  be  thine 

All  well  Avith  thee; 

O,  Avould  that  they  w^ere  mine  ! 

Kest  without  broken  dreams, 

Or  Avakeful  fears, 

Or  hidden  tears, 

That  shall  be  thine  ; 

All  Avell  with  thee  ; 

O,  would  that  it  were  mine ! 


10G 


NEWLY  FALLEN  ASLEEP. 


Life  that  shall  fear  no  death, 
God’s  life  above, 

Of  light  and  love, — 

That  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee  ; 

O,  would  that  it  were  mine  ! 

Morn  that  shall  light  the  tomb, 
And  call  from  dust 
The  slumbering  just, — 
That  shall  be  thine  ! 

All  well  with  thee 
O,  would  that  it  were  mine ! 


THE  FLESH  RESTING  IN  HOPE. 


“  The  grave  is  mine  house :  I  have  made  my  bed  in  the 
darkness  ....  the  clods  of  the  valley  shall  be  sweet  unto 
him.” — Job  xxvii.  13,  xi.  33 

Lie  down,  frail  body,  here, 

Earth  has  no  fairer  bed, 

No  gentler  pillow  to  afford, — 

Come,  rest  thy  home-sick  head. 

Lie  down,  “  vile  body,”  *  here, 

This  mould  is  smoothly  strown, 

No  couch  of  flowers  more  softly  spread, — 
Come,  make  this  grave  thine  own. 

Lie  down  with  all  thy  aches, 

There  is  no  aching  here  ; 

How  soon  shall  all  thy  life-long  ills 
For  ever  disappear. 


*  Phil.  iii.  21. 


108 


THE  FLESH  RESTING  IN  HOPE. 


Thro’  these  well-guarded  gates 
No  foe  can  entrance  gain  ; 

No  sickness  wastes,  nor  once  intrudes 
The  memory  of  pain. 

The  tossings  of  the  night, 

The  frettings  of  the  day, 

All  end,  and  like  a  cloud  of  dawn, 

Melt  from  thy  skies  away. 

Foot-sore  and  worn  thou  art, 

Breathless  with  toil  and  fight,  , 

How  welcome  now  the  long-sought  sleep 
Of  this  all-tranquil  night. 

Brief  night  and  quiet  couch 
In  some  star-lighted  room, 

Watched  but  by  one  beloved  eye, 

Whose  light  dispels  all  gloom  ; — 

A  sky  without  a  cloud, 

A  sea  without  a  wave, — 

These  are  but  shadows  of  thy  rest 
In  this  thy  peaceful  grave. 


THE  FLESH  RESTING  IN  HOPE. 


109 


Best  for  the  toiling  band, 

Rest  for  the  thought-worn  brow, 

Rest  for  the  weary  way-sore  feet. 

Rest  from  all  labor  now. 

Rest  for  the  fevered  brain, 

Rest  for  the  throbbing  eye; 

Thro’  these  parched  lips  of  thine  no  more, 

Shall  pass  the  moan  or  sigh. 

Soon  shall  the  trump  of  God 
Give  out  the  welcome  sound, 

That  shakes  thy  silent  chamber-walls 
And  breaks  the  turf-sealed  ground. 

Ye  dwellers  in  the  dust, 

Awake,  come  forth  and  sing ; 

Sharp  has  your  frost  of  winter  been, 

But  bright  shall  be  your  spring. 

% 


’Twas  sown  in  weakness  here  ; 

’Twill  then  be  raised  in  power. 

That  which  was  sown  an  earthly  seed. 

Shall  rise  a  heavenly  flower. 

10 


REST. 


Not  long,  not  long ! — The  spirit- wasting  fever 
Of  this  strange  life  shall  quit  each  throbbing  vein  ; 
And  this  wild  pulse  flow  placidly  for  ever ; 

And  endless  peace  relieve  the  burning  brain. 

Earth’s  joys  are  but  a  dream  ;  its  destiny 
Is  but  decay  and  death.  Rs  fairest  form 
Sunshine  and  shadow  mixed.  Its  brightest  day 
A  rainbow  braided  on  the  wreaths  of  storm. 

Yet  there  is  blessedness  that  change th  not ; 

A  rest  with  God,  a  life  that  cannot  die ; 

A  better  portion  and  a  brighter  lot ; 

A  home  with  Christ,  a  heritage  on  high. 

Hope  for  the  hopeless,  for  the  weary,  rest, 

More  gentle  than  the  still  repose  of  even ! 

Joy  for  the  joyless,  bliss  for  the  unblest ; 

Homes  foi  the  desolate  in  yonder  heaven  ! 


REST. 


Ill 


The  tempest  makes  returning  calm  more  dear ; 

The  darkest  midnight  makes  the  brightest  star, 
Even  so  to  us  when  all  is  ended  here, 

Shall  be  the  past,  remembered  from  afar. 

Then  welcome  change  and  death !  Since  these  alone 
Can  break  life’s  fetters,  and  dissolve  its  spell ; 
Welcome  all  present  change,  which  speeds  us.  on 
So  swift  to  that  which  is  unchangeable. 


A  PILGRIM’S  SONG. 


A  few  more  years  shall  roll, 

A  few  more  seasons  come  ; 

And  we  shall  be  with  those  that  rest, 
Asleep  within  the  tomb. 

Then,  0  my  Lord,  prepare 
My  soul  for  that  great  day  ; 

O  wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood/ 
And  take  my  sins  away. 

A  few  more  suns  shall  set 
O’er  these  dark  hills  of  time  ; 

And  we  shall  be  where  suns  are  not, 

A  far  serener  clime. 

Then,  0  my  Lord,  prepare 
My  soul  for  that  blest  day  ; 

0  wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood, 
And  take  my  sins  away. 

A  few  more  storms  shall  beat 
On  this  wild  rocky  shore ; 


A  pilgrim’s  song. 


113 


And  we  shall  be  where  tempests  cease, 
And  surges  swell  no  more. 

Then,  0  my  Lord,  prepare 
My  soul  for  that  calm  day ; 

O  wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 

A  few  more  struggles  here, 

A  few  more  partings  o’er, 

A  few  more  toils,  a  few  more  tears, 
And  we  shall  weep  no  more. 

Then,  0  my  Lord,  prepare 
My  soul  for  that  blest  day ; 

O  wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood, 


A  few  more  Sabbaths  here 
Shall  cheer  us  oil  our  way  ; 

And  we  shall  reach  the  endless  rest, 
The  eternal  Sabbath-day.* 

*  The  old  Latin  hymn  expresses  this  well . 

“Illic  nec  sabbato 
Suecedit  sabbatum, 

Perpes  lsetitia 
Sabbatizantium. 

10* 


114 


A  pilgrim’s  song. 


Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 
My  soul  for  that  sweet  day  ; 

O  wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 

’Tis  but  a  little  while 
And  He  shall  come  again, 

Who  died  that  we  might  live,  who  lives 
That  we  with  Him  may  reign. 

Then,  O  my  Lord,  prepare 
My  soul  for  that  glad  day  ; 

O  wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood, 

And  take  my  sins  away. 


QUIS  SE.PARABIT 


’Tis  thus  they  press  the  baud  and  part, 
Thus  have  they  bid  farewell  again  ; 

Yet  still  they  commune,  heart  with  heart, 
Linked  by  a  never-broken  chain. 

Still  one  in  life  and  one  in  death, 

One  in  their  hope  of  rest  above ; 

One  in  their  joy,  their  trust,  their  faith, 
One  in  each  other’s  faithful  love. 

Yet  must  they  part,  and  parting,  weep  ; 
What  else  has  earth  for  them  in  store  ? 

These  farewell  pangs,  how  sharp  and  deep, 
These  farewell  words,  how  sad  and  sore 

Yet  shall  they  meet  again  in  peace, 

To  sing  the  song  of  festal  joy, 

Where  none  shall  bid  their  gladness  cease, 
And  none  their  fellowship  destroy. 


116 


QUIS  SEPARABIT. 


Where  none  shall  beckon  them  away, 
Nor  bid  their  festival  be  done  ;* 

Their  meeting-time  the  eternal  day, 

Their  meeting-place  the  eternal  throne* 

There,  hand  in  hand,  firm  linked  at  last, 
And,  heart  to  heart,  enfolded  all, 

They  ’ll  smile  upon  the  troubled  past, 
And  wonder  why  they  wept  at  all. 

Then  let  them  press  the  hand  and  part, 
The  dearly  loved,  the  fondly  loving. 
Still,  still  in  spirit  and  in  heart, 

The  undivided,  unremoving. 

$  “Ibi  festivitas  sine  fine.” — Augustins. 


FAR  BETTER. 


0  safe  at  home,  where  the  dark  tempter  roams  not, 
How  I  have  envied  thy  far  happier  lot ! 

Already  resting  where  the  evil  comes  not, 

The  tear,  the  toil,  the  woe,  the  sin  forgot. 

O  safe  in  port,  where  the  rough  billow  breaks  not, 
Where  the  wild  sea-moan  saddens  thee  no  more ; 

Where  the  remorseless  stroke  of  tempest  shakes  not ; — 
When,  when  shall  I  too  gain  that  tranquil  shore  ? 

O  bright,  amid  the  brightness  all  eternal, 

When  shall  I  breathe  with  thee  the  purer  air? — * 

Air  of  a  land  whose  clime  is  ever  vernal, 

A  land  without  a  serpent  or  a  snare. 

Away,  above  the  scenes'  of  guilt  and  folly, 

Beyond  this  desert’s  heat  and  dreariness, 

Safe  in  the  city  of  the  ever-holy, 

Let  me  make  haste  to  join  thy  earlier  bliss. 


118 


FAR  BETTER. 


Another  battle  fought,  and  oh,  not  lost — 

Tells  of  the  ending  of  this  fight  and  thrall, 

Another  ridge  of  time’s  loue  moorland  crossed, 
Gives  nearer  prospect  of  the  jasper  wall. 

Just  gone  within  the  veil,  where  I  shall  follow, 
Not  far  before  me,  hardly  out  of  sight — 

I  down  beneath  thee  in  this  cloudy  hollow, 

And  thou  far  up  on  yonder  sunny  height. 

Gone  to  begin  a  new  and  happier  story, 

Thy  bitterer  tale  of  earth  now  told  and  done ; 

These  outer  shadows  for  that  inner  glory 
Exchanged  for  ever. — 0  thrice  blessed  one  ! 

0  freed  from  fetters  of  this  lonesome  prison, 

How  I  shall  greet  thee  in  that  day  of  days, 

When  He  who  died,  yea  rather  who  is  risen, 
Shall  these  frail  frames  from  dust  and  darkness 


raise. 


WANDERING  DOWN. 


I  am  wandering  down  life’s  shady  path, 
Slowly,  slowly,  wandering  down  ; 

I  am  wandering  down  life’s  rugged  path. 
Slowly,  slowly,  wandering  down. 

Morn,  with  its  store  of  buds  and  dew, 
Lies  far  behind  me  now ; 

Morn,  with  its  wealth  of  song  and  light, 
Lies  far  behind  me  now.  , 

TT  is  the  mellow  flush  of  sunset  now, 

’T  is  the  shadow  and  the  cloud ; 

TT  is  the  dimness  of  the  dying  eve, 

’T  is  the  shadow  and  the  cloud. 

’T  is  the  dreamy  haze  of  twilight  now, 

’T  is  the  hour  of  silent  trust ; 

’T  is  the  solemn  hue  of  fading  skies, 

’T  is  the  time  of  tranquil  trust. 


120 


WANDERING  DOWN. 


The  pleasant  heights  of  breezy  life, 
The  pleasant  heights  are  past ; 

The  sunny  slopes  of  buoyant  life, 

The  sunny  slopes  are  past. 

% 

I  shall  rest  in  yon  low  valley  soon, 
There  to  sleep  my  toil  away ; 

I  shall  rest  in  yon  sweet  valley  soorq 
There  to  sleep  my  tears  away. 

One  little  hour  will  soothe  away 
Time’s  months  of  care  and  pain  ; 

One  quiet  hour  will  dream  away 
Time’s  years  of  care  and  pain. 

Laid  side  by  side  with  those  I  love, 
How  calm  that  rest  shall  be ! 

Laid  side  by  side  with  those  I  love, 
How  soft  that  sleep  shall  be ! 

I  shall  rise  and  put  on  glory 

When  the  great  morn  shall  dawn  ; 

I  shall  rise  and  put  on  beauty 
When  the  glad  morn  shall  dawn. 


WANDERING  DOWN. 


121 


I  shall  mount  to  yon  fair  city, 

The  dwelling  of  the  blest ; 

I  shall  enter  yon  bright  city, 

The  palace  of  the  blest 

I  shall  meet  the  many  parted  ones, 

In  that  one  home  of  joy ; 

Lost  love  for  ever  found  again, 

In  that  dear  home  of  joy. 

We  have  shared  our  earthly  sorrow, 
Each  with  the  other  here ; 

We  shall  share  our  heavenly  gladness, 
Each  with  the  other  there. 

We  have  mingled  tears  together, 

We  shall  mingle  smiles  and  song ; 

We  have  mingled  sighs  together, 

We  shall  mingle  smiles  and  song. 

11 


THE  ROD, 


I  weep,  but  do  not  yield, 

I  mourn,  yet  still  rebel ; 

My  inmost  soul  seems  steeled. 
Cold  and  immovable. 

The  wound  is  sharp  and  deep  ; 
My  spirit  bleeds  within ; 

And  yet  I  lie  asleep, 

And  still  I  sin,  I  sin. 

My  bruised  soul  complains 
Of  stripes  without,  within  ; 

I  feel  these  piercing  pains — - 
Yet  still  I  sin,  I  sin. 

O’er  me  the  low  cloud  hung 
Its  weight  of  shade  and  fear; 

Unmoved  I  passed  along, 

And  still  my  sin  is  here. 


123 


\ 


THE  ROD. 

Yon  massive  mountain-peak 
The  lightning  rends  at  will ; 

The  rock  can  melt  or  break — 
I  am  unbroken  still. 

My  sky  was  once  noon-bright, 
My  day  was  calm  the  while, 

I  loved  the  pleasant  light, 

The  sunshine’s  happy  smile. 

I  said,  my  God,  oh,  sure, 

This  love  will  kindle  mine ; 

Let  but  this  calm  endure, 

Then  all  my  heart  is  thine. 

Alas,  I  knew  it  not ! — 

The  summer  flung  its  gold 

Of  sunshine  o’er  my  lot, 

And  yet  my  heart  was  cold. 

Trust  me  with  prosperous  days, 
I  said,  0  spare  the  rod  ; 

Thee  and  thy  love  I  ’ll  praise, 
My  gracious,  patient  God. 


124 


THE  ROD. 


Must  I  be  smitten,  Lord  ? 

Are  gentler  measures  vain  3 
Must  I  be  smitten,  Lord  ? 

Can  nothing  save  but  pain  ? 

Thou  trustedst  me  a  while ; 

Alas  !  I  was  deceived  ; 

I  revelled  in  the  smile, 

Yet  to  the  dust  I  cleaved. 

Then  the  fierce  tempest  broke, 

I  knew  from  whom  it  came, 

I  read  in  that  sharp  stroke 
A  father’s  hand  and  name. 

And  yet  I  did  Thee  wrong ; 

Dark  thoughts  of  Thee  came  in 
A  froward,  selfish  throng — 

And  I  allowed  the  sin  ! 

I  did  Thee  wrong,  my  God, 

I  wronged  thy  truth  and  love, 

I  fretted  at  the  rod, 

Against  thy  power  I  strove. 


THE  ROD. 


125 


I  said,  my  God,  at  length, 

This  stony  heart  remove, 
Deny  all  other  strength, 

But  give  me  strength  to  love. 

Come  nearer,  nearer  still, 

Let  not  thy  light  depart ; 
Bend,  break  this  stubborn  will, 
Dissolve  this  iron  heart. 

Less  wayward  let  me  be, 

More  pliable  and  mild  ; 

In  glad  simplicity 

More  like  a  trustful  child. 

Less,  less,  of  self  each  day, 

And  more,  my  God,  of  thee  ; 
0  keep  me  in  the  way, 

However  rough  it  be. 

Less  of  the  flesh  each  day, 

Less  of  the  world  and  sin  ; 
More  of  thy  Son  I  pray, 

More  of  Thyself  within. 

11* 


120 


•  THE  ROD. 


Riper  and  riper  now, 

Each  hour  let  me  become, 
Less  fit  for  scenes  below, 

More  fit  for  such  a  home. 

More  moulded  to  Thy  will. 
Lord,  let  Thy  servant  be, 
Higher  and  higher  still, 

Liker  and  liker  thee. 

Leave  nought  that  is  unmeet  5 
Of  all  that  is  mine  own 
Strip  me  ;  and  so  complete 
My  training  for  the  throne* 


STRENGTH  BY  THE  WAY 


Jesus,  while  this  rough  desert-soil 
I  tread,  be  Thou  my  guide  and  stay  ; 
Nerve  me  for  conflict  and  for  toil ; 

Uphold  me  on  my  stranger-way. 

Jesus,  in  heaviness  and  fear, 

’Mid  cloud,  and  shade,  and  gloom  I  stray 
For  earth’s  last  night  is  drawing  near ; 

O  cheer  me  on  my  stranger- way. 

Jesus,  in  solitude  and  grief, 

When  sun  and  stars  withhold  their  ray, 
Make  haste,  make  haste  to  my  relief; 

0  light  me  on  my  stranger-way. 

Jesus,  in  weakness  of  this  flesh, 

When  Satan  grasps  me  for  his  prey ; 

O  give  me  victory  afresh  ; 

And  speed  me  on  my  stranger-way. 


128 


THE  FEAST. 


Jesus,  my  righteousness  and  strength, 

My  more  than  life,  my  more  than  day ; 
Bring,  bring  deliverance  at  length  ; 

O  come  and  end  my  stranger-way. 


THE  FEAST. 

Loye  strong  as  death,  nay  stronger, 

Love  mightier  than  the  grave  ; 

Broad  as  the  earth,  and  longer 
Than  ocean’s  widest  wave. 

This  is  the  love  that  sought  us, 

This  is  the  love  that  bought  us, 

This  is  the  love  that  brought  us 

To  gladdest  day  from  saddest  night, 

From  deepest  shame  to  glory  bright, 
From  depths  of  death  to  life’s  fair  height, 
From  darkness  to  the  joy  of  light : 

This  is  the  love  that  leadeth 
Us  to  his  table  here, 

This  is  the  love  that  spreadeth 
For  us  this  royal  cheer. 


THE  STRANGER  SEA-BIRD. 


Far  from  Lis  breezy  home  of  cliff  and  billow, 

Yon  sea-bird  folds  his  wing; 

Upon  the  tremulous  bough  of  this  stream-shading 
willow 

He  stays  his  wandering. 

Fanned  by  fresh  leaves,  and  soothed  by  blossoms 
closing, 

His  lullaby  the  stream, 

A  stranger,  in  bewildered  loneliness  reposing, 

He  dreams  his  ocean-dream  : — 

His  dream  of  ocean-haunts,  and  ocean-brightness, 

The  rock,  the  wave,  the  foam, 

The  blue  above,  beneath,  the  sea-cloud’s  trail  of 
whiteness, 

His  unforgotten  home. 


J30 


THE  STRANGER  SEA-BIRD. 


And  lie  would  fly,  but  cannot,  for  the  shadows 
Of  night  have  barred  his  way  ; 

How  could  he  search  a  path  across  these  woods  and 
meadows 

To  his  far  sea-home  spray  ? 


Dark  miles  of  thicket,  swamp,  and  moorland  dreary, 
Forbid  his  hopeless  flight ; 

With  plumage  soiled,  eye  dim,  heart  faint,  and  wing 
all  weary, 

He  waits  for  sun  and  light. 


And  I,  in  this  far  land,  a  timid  stranger, 

Resting  by  Time’s  lone  stream, 

Lie  dreaming,  hour  by  hour,  beset  with  night  and 
danger, 

The  Church’s  Patmos-dream : 


The  dream  of  home  possessed,  and  all  home’s  gladness, 
Beyond  these  unknown  hills, 

Of  solace  after  earth’s  sore  days  of  stranger-sadness, 
Beside  the  eternal  nils. 


THE  STRANGER  SEA-BIRD. 


131 


Life’s  exile  past,  all  told  its  broken  story ; 

Night,  death,  and  evil  gone  ; 

This  more  than  Egypt-shame  exchanged  for  Canaan- 

glory, 

And  the  bright  city  won  ! 

Come  then,  O  Christ !  earth’s  Monarch  and  Redeemer, 
Thy  glorious  Eden  bring, 

Where  I,  even  I,  at  last,  no  more  a  trembling  dreamer, 
Shall  fold  my  heavy  wing. 


HOPE  DEFERRED. 


How  oft  the  mom  has  cheated  us 
As  with  unsleeping  eye, 

We  lay  upon  our  silent  couch, 

And  watched  the  changing  sky. 

How  often,  as  the  heavy  hours 
Stole  by  with  endless  haste, 

We’ve  said,  Ah  now  the  dawn  begins, 
The  weary  night  is  past. 

Hours  went  and  came,  but  yet  no  streak 
On  eastern  cloud  or  hill, 

We  looked  in  vain,  no  sign  appeared, 
’Twas  night  and  silence  still. 

’Twas  but  the  starlight,  not  the  sun, 

The  moonlight,  not  the  day ; 

We  thought  it  was  the  dawn,  but  now 
That  dawn  seems  far  away. 


HOPE  DEFERRED. 


133 


’Tis  thus,  beguiled  with  fond  desire, 
And  sick  with  hope  deferred, 

The  watching  Church,  with  eager  ear, 
The  well-known  cry  has  heard  : — 

“  He  whom  you  look  for  is  at  hand, 
Both  hope  and  fear  are  done !” 

No,  ’tis  not  yet, — -and  still  she  waits 
The  still  unrisen  sun. 

Age  after  age,  in  love  and  faith, 

She  has  with  longing  eye 
Been  watching  every  streak  of  dawn 
In  yon  perplexing  sky. 

And  shall  she  now  give  up  her  trust, 
And  turn  her  eye  away, 

As  if  there  were  no  sun  for  her, 

No  hope  of  light  and  day? 

She  will  not,  for  she  knows  how  sure 
The  promise  of  her  Lord  ; 

She  will  not,  for  she  knows  how  true 

Is  the  unchanging  word. 

12 


134 


HOPE  DEFERRED. 


The  morn  shall  come  ;  Day  He  himself, 
Blighter  than  morn’s  best  ray, 

Shall  come  to  bid  the  night  depart, 

And  brina:  at  last  the  dav. 

Then  shall  the  weary  night-watch  cease, 
When,  counting  each  lone  hour, 

She  marked  the  shadows  flitting  by 
The  lattice  of  her  tower. 

*Twas  not  in  vain  she  kept  the  watch 
When  all  around  her  slept ; 

’Twas  not  in  vain  she  waited  thus, 

And  loved,  and  longed,  and  wept 

It  dawns  at  last,  the  long-loved  morn, 

It  comes,  the  meeting-day, 

And  in  its  joys  shall  be  forgot 
The  sorrows  of  delay. 


THE  BLANK. 

One  flower  may  fill  another’s  place, 

With  breath  as  sweet,  with  hues  as  glowing ; 
One  ripple  in  yon  ocean-space 
Be  lost  amid  another’s  flowing. 

One  star  in  yon  bright  azure  dome 
May  vanish  from  its  sparkling  cluster, 
Unmissed,  un mourned,  and  in  its  room 
Some  rival  orb  eclipse  its  lustre. 

But  who  shall  fill  a  brother’s  room  ? 

Or  who  shall  soothe  the  bosom’s  grieving  ? 
Who  heal  the  heart  around  his  tomb 
Too  faithfully,  too  fondly  cleaving? 

Can  I  supply  youth’s  memories  ? 

Or  speak  the  words  in  childhood  spoken  ? 
Can  I  re-knit  the  severed  ties  ? 

Replace,  re  tune  the  chord  once  broken  ? 


136 


THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  BELOVED. 


Tt  is  not  here,  it  is  not  now, 

That  hearts  are  knit  no  more  to  sever ; 
Grief’s  wrinkles  razed  from  cheek  and  brow, 
And  life’s  long  blanks  filled  up  for  ever. 


THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  BELOVED 


“  So  he  giveth  his  beloved  sleep.” — Psalm  cxxvii.  2. 

Sunlight  has  vanished,  and  the  wearv  earth 
Lies  resting  from  a  long  day’s  toil  and  pain, 
And,  looking  for  a  new  dawn’s  early  birth, 
Seeks  strength  in  slumber  for  its  toil  again. 

We  too  would  rest ;  but  ere  we  close  the  eye 
Upon  the  consciousness  of  waking  thought, 
Would  calmly  turn  it  to  yon  star-bright  sky, 
And  lift  the  soul  to  Him  who  slumbers  not. 

Above  us  is  thy  hand  with  tender  care, 
Distilling  over  us  the  dew  of  sleep : 


THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  BELOVED. 


13? 


Darkness  seems  loaded  with  oblivious  air, 

In  deep  forgetfulness  each  sense  to  steep. 

Thou  hast  provided  midnight’s  hour  of  peace, 
Thou  stretchest  over  us  the  wing  of  rest ; 

With  more  than  all  a  parent’s  tenderness, 

Foldest  us  sleeping  to  thy  gentle  breast. 

Grief  flies  away  ;  care  quits  our  easy  couch, 

Till  wakened  by  thy  hand,  when  breaks  the  day— 

Like  the  lone  prophet  by  the  angel’s  touch, — 

We  rise  to  tread  again  our  pilgrim-way. 

God  of  our  life !  God  of  each  day  and  night ! 

Oh,  keep  us  still  till  life’s  short  race  is  run ! 

Until  there  dawns  the  long,  long  day  of  light, 

That  knows  no  night,  yet  needs  no  star  nor  sun. 

12* 


THE  LITTLE  FLOCK. 


A  little  flock !  So  calls  He  thee, 

Who  bought  thee  with  his  blood  ; 

A  little  flock — disowned  of  men, 

But  owned  and  loved  of  God. 

A  little  flock  !  So  calls  He  thee ; 

Church  of  the  first-born,  hear ! 

Be  not  ashamed  to  own  the  name ; 

It  is  no  name  of  fear. 

A  little  flock!  Yes,  even  so  ; 

A  handful  among  men, 

Such  is  the  purpose  of  thy  God  ; 

So  willeth  He ;  Amen  ! 

Not  many  rich  or  noble  called, 

Not  many  great  or  wise  ; 

They  whom  God  makes  his  kings  and  priests, 
Are  poor  in  human  eyes. 


THE  LITTLE  FLOCK. 


139 


Church  of  the  everlasting  God, 

The  Father’s  gracious  choice, 

Amid  the  voices  of  this  earth 
How  feeble  is  thy  voice ! 

Thy  words  amid  the  words  of  earth, 
How  noiseless  and  how  low  ! 

Amid  the  hurrying  crowds  of  time, 
Thy  steps  how  calm  and  slow ! 

But  ’mid  the  wrinkled  brows  of  earth 
Thy  brow  how  free  from  care  ; 

’Mid  the  flushed  cheeks  of  riot  here, 
Thy  cheek  how  pale  and  fair ! 

Amid  the  restless  eyes  of  earth, 

How  steadfast  is  thine  eye, 

Fixed  on  the  silent  loveliness 
Of  the  far  eastern  sky. 

A  little  flock  !  ’Tis  well,  ’tis  well ; 
Such  be  her  lot  and  name ; 

Through  ages  past  it  has  been  so, 

And  now  ’tis  still  the  same. 


140 


THE  LITTLE  FLOCK. 


But  the  chief  Shepherd  comes  at  length 
Her  feeble  days  are  o’er, 

No  more  a  handful  in  the  earth, 

A  little  flock  no  more. 

No  more  a  lily  among  thorns ; 

Weary,  and  faint,  and  few, 

But  countless  as  the  stars  of  heaven, 

Or  as  the  early  dew. 

Then  entering  the  eternal  halls, 

In  robes  of  victory, 

That  mighty  multitude  shall  keep 
The  joyous  jubilee. 

Unfading  palms  they  bear  aloft, 

Unfaltering  songs  they  sing ; 

Unending  festival  they  keep, 

In  presence  of  the  King.* 

*  Twv  dyyiXuv  Kal  tuv  dyicov  aei  topra^ovruv. — ATHA¬ 
NASIUS. 


THE  NAME  OF  NAMES 


Father,  thy  Son  hath  died 
The  sinner’s  death  of  woe ; 

Stooping  in  love  from  heaven  to  earth, 
Our  curse  to  undergo  ; 

Our  curse  to  undergo, 

Upon  the  hateful  tree. 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  O  Lord, 

Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  blessing  me ! 

Father,  thy  Son  hath  borne 
The  sinner’s  doom  of  shame ; 
Bearing  his  cross  without  the  gate, 

He  met  the  law’s  full  claim  ; 

He  met  the  law’s  full  claim, 

Sin’s  righteous  penalty. 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  0  Lord, 

Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  pardoning  me ! 


142 


THE  NAME  OF  NAMES. 


Father,  thy  Son  hath  poured 
His  life-blood  on  this  earth, 

To  cleanse  away  our  guilt  and  stains, 
To  give  us  second  birth  ; 

To  give  us  second  birth, 

From  sin  to  set  us  free. 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  O  Lord, 

Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  cleansing  me ! 

♦ 

Father,  thy  Son  hath  risen, 

O’ercoming  hell’s  dark  powers  ; 

His  surety-death  was  all  for  us, 

His  surety- life  is  ours  ; 

His  surety-life  is  ours, 

Ours,  ours  eternally. 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  O  Lord, 

Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  quickening  me ! 

Father,  thy  Son  to  thee 
Is  now  gone  up  on  high, 

Enthroned  in  heaven  at  thy  right  hand, 
He  reigns  eternally ; 

He  reigns  eternally, 


THE  NAME  OF  NAMES. 


143 


In  might  and  majesty. 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  O  Lord. 

Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  raising  me ! 

Father,  thy  Son  on  earth, 

No  one  to  own  him  found, 
fle  passed  among  the  sons  of  men 
Rejected  and  disowned ; 

Rejected  and  disowned, 

That  we  received  might  be  ! 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  0  Lord, 
Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  owning  me  ! 

Father,  thy  Son  is  king, 

Heaven’s  crown  and  earth’s  is  his ; 
For  us,  for  us,  he  bought  the  crown, 
For  us  he  earned  the  bliss ; 

For  us  he  earned  the  bliss. 

Amen,  so  let  it  be  ! 

Give  glory  to  thy  Son,  O  Lord, 
Put  honor  on  that  name  of  names 
By  crowning  me  1 


MINE  AND  THINE. 


“  Didicisti  quod  nihil  tui  boni  praecesserat,  et  gratis  De* 
oon versus  es  ad  Deum.” — Augustine. 


All  that  I  was — my  sin,  my  guilt, 
My  death  was  all  my  own ; 

All  that  I  am ,  I  owe  to  thee, 

My  gracious  God  alone. 


The  evil  of  my  former  state 
Was  mine  and  only  mine; 

The  good  in  which  I  now  rejoice 
Is  thine  and  only  thine. 


The  darkness  of  my  former  state. 
The  bondage  all  was  mine  ; 
The  light  of  life  in  which  I  -walk, 
The  liberty  is  thine- 


ABIDE  IN'  HIM. 


145 


Thy  grace  first  made  me  feel  my  sin. 

It  taught  me  to  believe ; 

Then,  in  believing  peace  I  found, 
And  now  I  live,  I  live. 

All  that  I  am,  even  here  on  earth, 

All  that  I  hope  to  be, 

When  Jesus  comes  and  glory  dawns, 
I  owe  it,  Lord,  to  thee. 


ABIDE  IN  HIM. 

“  Tecum  volo  vulnerari 
Te  libenter  amplexari 

In  cruce  desidero.” — Old  Htshsl 

Cling  to  the  Crucified  ! 

His  death  is  life  to  thee, — 

Life  for  eternity. 

His  pains  thy  pardon  seal ; 

His  stripes  thy  bruises  heal ; 

His  cross  proclaims  thy  peace, 

Bids  every  sorrow  cease. 

13 


146 


ABIDE  IN  imi. 


His  blood  is  all  to  thee, 

It  purges  thee  from  sin  ; 

It  sets  thy  spirit  free, 

It  keeps  thy  conscience  clean. 
Cling  to  the  Crucified ! 

Cling  to  the  Crucified! 

His  is  a  heart  of  love, 

Full  as  the  hearts  above ; 

Its  depths  of  sympathy 
Are  all  awake  for  thee  : 

His  countenance  is  light, 

Even  to  the  darkest  night. 

That  love  shall  never  change — 
That  light  shall  ne’er  grow  dim  \ 
Charge  thou  thy  faithless  heart 
To  find  its  all  in  him. 
ding  to  the  Crucified  1 


THE  BELOVED  SON. 


“  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well-pleased.”' 
Matt.,  iii.  17. 


It  is  the  Father’s  voice  that  cries 
Mid  the  deep  silence  of  the  skies  : 
“  This,  this  is  my  beloved  Son, 

In  Him  I  joy,  in  Him  alone. 


“  In  Him  my  equal  see  revealed, 

In  Him  all  righteousness  fulfilled, 

In  Him,  the  Lamb,  the  victim  see, 
Bound,  bleeding,  dying  on  the  tree. 


•  “  And  can  you  fail  to  love  again  ? 
Far  fairer  he  than  sons  of  men  ! 
His  very  name  is  fragrance  poured, 
Immanuel,  Jesus,  Saviour,  Lord  ! 


148 


THE  EELOVED  SON. 


“He  died,  and  in  his  dying,  proved 
How  much,  how  faithfully  he  loved ; 
At  my  right  hand,  his  glories  shine ; 

Is  my  beloved,  siuner,  thine?'1 

0  full  of  glory,  full  of  grace, 

Redeemer  of  a  ruined  race, 

Beloved  of  the  Father,  come, 

Make  in  these  sinful  hearts  a  home  ! 

Beloved  of  the  Father,  thou, 

To  whom  the  saints  and  angels  bow ; 
Immanuel,  Jesus,  Saviour,  come, 

Make  in  these  sinful  hearts  thy  home  I 


4 


THE  SINBEARER. 


“  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions ;  He  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities.” — Isa.,  iii.  5. 


Thy  works,  not  mine,  O  Christ, 
Speak  gladness  to  this  heart ; 
They  tell  me  all  is  done ; 

They  bid  my  fear  depart. 

To  whom  save  thee, 
Who  can  alone 
For  sin  atone, 
Lord,  shall  I  flee  ! 


Thy  pains,  not  mine,  0  Christ, 

Upon  the  shameful  tree, 
ilave  paid  the  law’s  full  price, 

And  purchased  peace  for  me. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 
13* 


* 


150  TIIE  SINBEARER. 

Thy  tears,  not  mine,  O  Christ, 

Have  wept  my  guilt  away ; 

And  turned  this  night  of  mine 
Into  a  blessed  day. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 


Thy  bonds,  not  mine,  O  Christ, 
Unbind  me  of  my  chain, 

And  break  my  prison-doors, 

N  e’er  to  be  barred  again. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etca 


Thy  wounds,  not  mine,  0  Christ, 

Can  heal  my  bruised  soul ; 

Thy  stripes,  not  mine,  contain 
The  balm  that  makes  me  whole. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 

Thy  blood,  not  mine,  O  Christ, 

Thy  blood  so  freely  spilt, 

Can  blanch  my  blackest  stains 
And  purge  away  my  guilt. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 


> 


THE  SIXBEAItEE.  151 

Thy  cross,  not  mine,  O  Christ, 

Has  borne  the  awful  load 

Of  sins  that  none  in  heaven 
Or  earth  could  bear  but  God. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 

Thy  death,  not  mine,  0  Christ, 

Has  paid  the  ransom  due  ; 

Ten  thousand  deaths  like  mine, 

Would  have  been  all  too  few. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc 

Thy  righteousness,  O  Christ, 

Alone  can  cover  me  ; 

No  righteousness  avails 
Save  that  which  is  of  thee. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 

Thy  righteousness  alone 
Can  clothe  and  beautify ; 

I  wrap  it  round  my  soul ; 

In  this  I’ll  live  and  die. 

To  whom,  save  thee,  etc. 


THE  SUBSTITUTE. 


‘  Jesu,  plena  caritate 
Manus  tuas  perforates 
Laxent  mea  erimina ; 

Latus  tuurn  lanceatum. 

Caput  spiuis  coronatum, 

Haec  sint  medicamina.” — Old  Hymn. 


I  lay  my  sins  on  Jesus, 

The  spotless  Lamb  of  God ; 

He  bears  them  all  and  frees  us 
From  the  accursed  load. 

I  bring  my  guilt  t^Fesus, 

To  wash  my  crimson  stains 
White  in  his  blood  most  precious, 
Till  not  a  stain  remains. 

I  lay  my  wants  on  Jesus ; 

All  fulness  dwells  in  Him. 

He  heals  all  my  diseases, 

He  doth  my  soul  redeem. 


THE  SUBSTITUTE. 


I  lav  my  griefs  on  Jesus, 

My  burdens  and  my  cares ; 

He  from  them  all  releases, 

He  all  my  sorrows  shares. 

I  rest  my  soul  on  Jesus, 

This  weary  soul  of  mine  ; 

His  right  hand  me  embraces, 
I  on  his  breast  recline. 

I  love  the  name  of  Jesus, 
Immanuel,  Christ,  the  Lord 

Like  fragrance  on  the  breezes, 
His  name  abroad  is  poured. 

I  long  to  1  e  like  Jesus, 

Meek,  loving  lowly,  mild, 

I  long  to  be  like  Jesus, 

The  Father’s  hol}T  child. 

I  long  to  be  with  Jesus 
Amid  the  heavenly  throng, 

To  sing  with  saints  his  praises 
To  learn  the  angel’s  song. 


\ 


LOST  BUT  FOUND. 


“  Arte  mira,  miro  consilio, 

Quserens  ovem  suam  sumraus  opilio, 

Ut  nos  rovocaret  ab  exilio.” — Old  IIymx. 

I  was  a  wandering  sheep, 

I  did  not  love  the  fold  ; 

I  did  not  love  my  Shepherd’s  voice, 

I  would  not  be  controlled. 

I  was  a  wayward  child, 

I  did  not  love  my  home, 

I  did  not  love  my  father’s  voice, 

I  loved  afar  to  roam. 

/ 

The  Shepherd  sought  his  sheep, 

The  Father  sought  his  child, 

They  followed  me  o’er  vale  and  hill, 
O’er  deserts  waste  and  wild. 

They  fouud  me  nigh  to  d&ath, 
Famished,  and  faint,  and  lone  ; 


LOST  BUT  FOUND. 


155 


They  bound  me  with  the  bands  of  love ; 
They  saved  the  wandering  one  ! 

They  spoke  in  tender  love, 

They  raised  my  drooping  head  : 

They  gently  closed  my  bleeding  wounds, 
My  fainting  soul  they  fed. 

They  washed  my  filth  away, 

They  made  me  clean  and  fair  ; 

They  brought  me  to  my  home  in  peace, — 
The  long-sought  wanderer  ! 

Jesus  my  Shepherd  is, 

’Twas  He  that  loved  my  soul, 

’Twas  lie  that  washed  me  in  his  blood, 
’Twas  He  that  made  me  whole. 

’Twas  He  that  sought  the  lost, 

That  found  the  wandering  sheep, 

’Twas  He  that  brought  me  to  the  fold, 

’Tis  He  that  still  doth  keep. 

I  was  a  wandering  sheep, 

I  would  not  be  controlled  : 

But  now  1  love  my  Shepherd’s  voice, 

I  love,  I  love  the  fold  ! 


156 


THE  TVOED  MADE  FLESH. 


I  was  a  wayward  child ; 

I  ODce  preferred  to  roam, 

But  now  I  love  my  Father’s. voice, — 
I  love,  I  love  his  home ! 


THE  WORD  MADE  FLESH. 

“Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  though 
he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  ye 
through  his  poverty  might  be  rich.” — 2  Cor.,  viii.  9. 

The  Son  of  God  in  mighty  love, 

Came  down  to  Bethlehem  for  me  ; 

Forsook  his  throne  of  light  above, 

An  infant  upon  earth  to  he. 

In  love,  the  Father’s  sinless  child 
Sojourned  at  Nazareth  for  me  ; 

With  sinners  dwelt  the  undefiled, 

The  Holy  One  in  Galilee. 

Jesus,  whom  angel-hosts  adore, 

Became  a  man  of  griefs  for  me  ; 

la  love,  though  rich,  becoming  poor, 

That  I  through  him  enriched  might  be. 


THE  WORD  MADE  FLESH. 


Though  Lord  of  all,  above,  below, 
lie  went  to  Olivet  for  me ; 

There  drank  my  cup  of  wrath  and  woe, 
When  bleeding  in  Gethsemane. 

The  ever-blessed  son  of  God 
Went  up  to  Calvary  for  me  ; 

There  paid  my  debt,  there  bore  my  load, 
In  his  own  body  on  the  tree. 

Jesus,  whose  dwelling  is  the  skies, 

Went  down  into  the  grave  for  me ; 
There  overcame  my  enemies, 

There  won  the  glorious  victory. 

In  love  the  whole  dark  path  he  trod, 

To  consecrate  a  way  for  me ; 

Each  bitter  footstep  marked  with  blood, 
From  Bethlehem  to  Calvary. 

’Tis  finished  all ;  the  veil  is  rent, 

The  welcome  sure,  the  access  free 
Now  then  we  leave  our  banishment, 

0  Father,  to  return  to  thee  1 

14 


THE  DARKNESS  AND  THE  LIGHT. 


“Ye  were  sometime  darkness,  but  now  ye  are  light  in  the 
Lord.” — Eph.,  y.  8. 

“  Let  there  be  light,”  Jehovah,  said, 

The  beam  awoke,  the  light  obeyed ; 

Bursting  on  chaos  dark  and  wild, 

Till  the  glad  earth  and  ocean  smiled. 

Formless  and  void,  and  dark  as  night, 

My  heart  remained,  till  heavenly  light, 
Obedient  to  the  word  divine, 

On  mv.  dark  soul  began  to  shine. 

Light  broke  upon  my  rayless  tomb, 

The  day-star  rose  upon  my  gloom ; 

And  with  its  gentle  new-born  ray 
Brightened  my  darkness  into  day. 

Glory  to  Thee  by  all  be  given 

Of  light  the  light,  in  earth  and  heaven  ; 

Of  joys  the  joy,  of  suns  the  sun, 

Jesus,  the  Father’s  chosen  One. 


THE  VOICE  FROM  GALILEE. 

“Of  liis-fulness  have  all  we  received,  and  grace  for  grace 
John,  l  16. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

Come  unto  me  and  rest ; 

Lay  down,  thou  weary  one,  lay  down 
Thy  head  upon  my  breast. 

I  came  to  Jesus  as  I  was, 

Weary,  and  worn,  and  sad, 

I  found  in  Him  a  resting-place, 

And  He  has  made  me  glad. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

Behold,  I  freely  give 
The  living  water, — thirsty  one, 

Stoop  down,  and  drink,  aud  live. 

I  came  to  Jesus  and  I  drank 
Of  that  life-giving  stream, 

My  thirst  was  quenched,  my  soul  revive^, 
And  now  I  live  in  Him. 


160 


BETHLEHEM  HYMN. 


I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

I  am  this  dark  world’s  light, 
Look  unto  me,  thy  morn  shall  rise 
And  all  thy  day  be  bright. 

I  looked  to  Jesus  and  I  found 
In  Him,  my  Star,  my  Sun  ; 

And  in  that  light  of  life  I’ll  walk 
Till  travelling  days  are  done. 


A  BETHLEHEM  HYMN. 

“  Mundum  implens,  in  praesepio  jacens.” — Augustine. 

He  has  come !  the  Christ  of  God ; — 

Left  for  us  his  glad  abode ; 

Stooping  from  his  throne  of  bliss, 

To  this  darksome  wilderness. 

He  has  come  !  the  Prince  of  Peace  ; — 

Come  to  bid  our  sorrows  cease  ; 

Come  to  scatter,  with  his  light, 

'  ©  * 

All  the  shadows  of  our  night. 

© 


161 


BETHLEHFM  HYMN. 

% 

He  the  mighty  King  has  come  ! 
Making  this  poor  earth  his  home  * 
Come  to  bear  sin’s  sad  load ; — 

Son  of  David,  Son  of  God. 

He  has  come,  whose  name  of  grace 
Speaks  deliverance  to  our  race  ; 

Jjeft  for  us  his  glad  abode  ; 

Son  of  Mary,  Son  of  God  ! 

Unto  us  a  child  is  born  ! 

He’er  has  earth  beheld  a  morn 
Among  all  the  morns  of  time, 

Half  so  glorious  in  its  prime. 

* 

Unto  us  a  Son  is  given  ! 

He  has  come  from  God’s  own  heaven ; 
Bringing  with  him  from  above, 

Holy  peace  and  holy  love. 

14* 


THIS  DO  IN  REMEMBRANCE  OF  ME. 


Here,  0  my  Lord,  I  see  tbee  face  to  face ; 

Here  would  I  touch  and  handle  tilings  unseen  ; 
Here  grasp  with  firmer  hand  the  eternal  grace, 

And  all  my  weariness  upon  Thee  lean. 

Here  would  I  feed  upon  the  bread  of  God ; 

Here  drink  with  Thee  the  royal  wine  of  heaven  ;■ 
Here  would  I  lay  aside  each  earthly  load, 

Here  taste  afresh  the  calm  of  sin  forgiven. 

* 

This  is  the  hour  of  banquet  and  of  song, 

This  is  the  heavenly  table  spread  for  me  ; 

Here  let  me  feast,  and,  feasting,  still  prolong 
The  brief  bright  hour  of  fellowship  with  Thee. 

Too  soon  we  rise  ;  the  symbols  disappear  : 

The  feast,  though  not  the  love,  is  passed  and  gone. 
The  bread  and  wine  remove,  but  Thou  art  here, — 
Nearer  than  ever, — still  mv  Shield  and  Sun. 


THIS  DO  IN  REMEMBRANCE  OF  ME, 


163 


I  have  r.o  help  but  thiue  ;  nor  do  I  need 
.  Another  arm  save  thine  to  lean  upon. 

It  is  enough,  my  Lord,  enough,  indeed  ; 

My  strength  is  in  thy  might, — thy  might  alone. 

I  have  no  •wisdom,  save  in  Him  who  is 
My  wisdom  and  my  teacher,  both  in  one  ; 

No  wisdom  can  I  lack  while  Thou  art  wise, 

No  teaching  do  I  crave,  save  thine  alone. 

Mine  is  the  sin,  but  thine  the  righteousness ; 

Mine  is  the  guilt,  but  thine  the  cleansing  blood ; 
Here  is  my  robe,  my  refuge,  and  my  peace, — 

Thy  blood,  thy  righteousness,  O  Lord  my  God. 

v 

I  know  that  deadly  evils  compass  me, 

Dark  perils  threaten,  yet  I  would  not  fear, 

Nor  poorly  shrink,  nor  feebly  turn  to  flee, — 

Thou,  0  my  Christ,  art  buckler,  sword,  and  spear. 

But  see,  the  Pillar-cloud  is  rising  now, 

And  moving  onward  through  the  desert-night ; 

It  beckons,  and  I  follow,  for  I  know 
It  leads  me  to  the  heritage  of  light. 


164 


CHRTST  OUR  PEACE. 


Feast  after  feast  thus  comes  and  passes  b}r ; 

Yet,  passing,  points  to  the  glad  feast  above, 
Giving  sweet  foretaste  of  the  festal  joy, 

The  Lamb’s  great  bridal  feast  of  bliss  and  love. 


CHRIST  OUR  PEACE. 

I  thought  upon  my  sins,  and  I  was  sad, 

My  soul  was  troubled  sore  and  filled  with  pain  ; 

But  then  I  thought  on  Jesus  and  was  glad, 

My  heavy  grief  was  turned  to  joy  again. 

I  thought  upon  the  law,  the  fiery  law, 

Holy,  and  just,  and  good  in  its  decree  ; 

I  looked  to  Jesus,  and  in  Him  I  saw 

That  law  fulfilled,  its  curse  endured  for  me. 

I  thought  I  saw  an  angry  frowning  God 

Sitting  as  Judge  upon  the  great  white  throne  ; 

My  soul  was  overwhelmed, — then  Jesus  showed 
His  gracious  face,  and  all  my  dread  was  gone. 


CHRIST  OUR  PEACE. 


165 


I  saw  my  sad  estate,  condemned  to  die, 

Then  terror  seized  my  heart,  and  dark  despair ; 

But  when  to  Calvary  I  turned  my  eye, 

I  saw  the  cross,  and  read  forgiveness  there. 

I  saw  that  I  was  lost,  far  gone  astray, 

No  hope  of  safe  return  there  seemed  to  be  ; 

But  then  I  heard  that  Jesus  was  the  way, 

A  new  and  living  way  prepared  for  me. 

Then  in  that  way,  so  free,  so  safe,  so  sure, 
Sprinkled  all  o’er  with  reconciling  blood, 

Will  I  abide,  and  never  wander  more, 

Walking  along  in  fellowship  with  God. 


GOD’S  ISRAEL. 


Happy  sons  of  Israel, 

Who  in  pleasant  Canaan  dwell  ;?3 
Happy  they,  but  happier  we, 

If  Jehovah’s  own  we  be. 

Happy  citizens  who  wait 

Within  Salem’s  hallowed  gate  ; 

Happy  they,  but  happier  we 

« 

Who  the  heavenly  Salem  see. 

Happy  sons  of  Levi  there, 

Who  within  thy  house  of  prayer 
Always  stand  ;  but  happier  we, 

Day  and  night  still  praising  Thee. 

For  Jerusalem  above 
Is  the  city  that  we  love ; 

Jerusalem  our  home  we  call, — 

♦ 

Heavenly  mother  of  us  all. 

The  first  two  lines  of  the  above  are  from  the  old  translation 
of  the  66th  Psalm  by  George  Sandy 3, 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CROSS- 


Oppressed  with  noon-day’s  scorching  heat, 
To  yonder  cross  I  flee  ; 

Beneath  its  shelter  take  my  seat ; 

No  shade  like  this  for  me  ! 

• 

Beneath  that  cross  clear  waters  burst, 

A  fountain  sparkling  free  ; 

And  there  I  quench  my  desert  thirst ; 

No  spring  like  this  for  me ! 

A  stranger  here,  I  pitch  my  tent 
Beneath  this  spreading  tree  ; 

Here  shall  my  pilgrim  life  be  spent ; 

No  home  like  this  for  me  ! 

For  burdened  ones  a  resting-place, 

Beside  that  cross  I  see  ; 

Here  I  cast  off  my  weariness ; 

No  rest  like  this  for  me  J 


CHILD’S  PRAYER. 


/ 


u  They  that  seek  me  early  shall  find  me.” — Proy.,  viil  11 

Holy  Father  !  hear  my  cry, 

Holy  Saviour  !  bend  thine  ear, 

Holy  Spirit !  come  thou  nigh ; 

,  Father,  Saviour,  Spirit,  hear. 

Father,  save  me  from  my  sin, 

Saviour,  I  thy  mercy  crave, 

Gracious  Spirit,  make  me  clean  ; 

Father,  Son,  and  Spirit  save. 

Father,  let  me  taste  thy  love, 

Saviour,  fill  my  soul  with  peace, 

Spirit,  come  my  heart  to  move  ; 

Father,  Son,  and  Spirit  bless. 

Father,  Son,  and  Spirit — thou 
One  Jehovah,  shed  abroad 
All  thy  grace  within  me  now ; 

Be  my  Father  and  my  God. 


CHILD’S  MORNING  HYMN. 


“  He  wakeneth  morning  by  morning ;  he  wakeneth  mine 
ear  to  hear.” — Isa.,  i.  4. 

The  morning,  tlie  bright  and  the  beautiful  morning 
Is  up,  and  the  sunshine  is  all  on  the  wing, 

With  its  fresh  flush  of  gladness  the  landscape  adorn¬ 
ing,— 

A  gladness  which  nothing  but  morning  can  bring. 
The  earth  is  awaking,  the  sky  and  the  ocean, 

The  river  and  forest,  the  mountain  and  plain  ; 

The  city  is  stirring  its  living  commotion, 

And  the  pulse  of  the  world  is  reviving  again. 

And  we  too  awake,  for  our  heavenly  Father, 

Who  soothed  us  so  gently  to  sleep  on  his  breast, 
And  made  the  soft  stillness  of  evening  to  gather 
Around  us,  now  calls  us  again  from  our  rest. 

But  ere  to  our  labors  and  duties  returning, 

We  hasten  to  give  him  the  praise  that  is  meet, 
And  in  solemn  devotion,  the  first  hours  of  morning, 

Our  freest  and  freshest,  we  lay  at  his  feet. 

15 


170 


child’s  horning  hymn. 


Then,  happy  in  heart,  not  a  moment  delaying', 

In  the  breeze  of  the  dawning  so  pleasant  and  cool, 
No  loitering,  no  lingering,  no  trifling,  no  playing, 

But  eager  and  active,  we  haste  to  the  school. 

How  sweet  are  its  hours  that  shine  o’er  us  so  brightly ; 

How  pleasant  its  lessons,  how  short  seems  the  day  ; 
Its  hours  are  but  moments,  they  fly  oft*  so  lightly, 
When  we  are  so  busy,  so  cheerful,  and  gay. 

Then  away  to  the  school  in  the  sweet  summer  morn¬ 
ing, 

God’s  blessing  upon  us,  his  light  on  our  road  ; 

And  let  all  the  lessons  we  daily  are  learning 
Be  only  to  bring  us  more  surely  to  God. 

O  now,  let  us  haste  to  our  heavenly  Father, 

And  ere  the  fair  shies  of  life’s  dawning  be  dim, 

Let  us  come  with  glad  hearts,  let  us  come  altogether, 
And  the  morn  of  our  youth  let  us  hallow  to  Him, 


TO  M.  L.  B. 


No  night  descend  on  thee  : 

O’er  thee  no  shadows  come ! 

Safe  be  thy  journey  through 
This  vale  of  cloud  and  gloom. 

Daybreak  be  ever  thine ; 

With  fresh  and  rosy  hours, 

Calm  sunshine  of  the  morn, 

Odors,  and  dews,  and  flowers. 

Light  dwell  in  thee,  and  thou 
Dwell  ever  in  the  light ; 

No  wrinkle  on  thy  brow, 

Thine  eye  still  blue  and  bright. 

One  long  sweet  spring  be  thine, 
With  buds  still  bursting  through, 
Fresh  blossoms  every  hour, 

And  verdure  fair  and  new. 


Peace  be  thy  gentle  guest, 
Peace  holy  and  divine  ; 
God’s  blessed  sunlight  still, 
Upon  thy  pathway  shine. 

His  Spirit  fill  thy  soul, 

And  cast  out  every  sin, 

His  own  deep  joy  impart, 

And  make  a  heaven  withia. 


THE  TWO  ERAS  OF  THE  LAND. 


Of  old  they  sung  the  song  of  liberty, 

They  sung  it  upon  mountain  and  on  plain, 

Till  every  echo  of  both  land  and  sea 
Pealed  back  the  -song  again. 

They  poured  it  on  the  morning’s  genial  gale, 

It  floated  out  upon  the  evening’s  calm, 

And  the  rich  stream-breeze  from  each  fragrant  vale 
Gave  back  the  song  in  balm. 

The  peasant  sang  it  in  his  straw-roofed  cot, 

The  noble  sang  it  in  his  princely  hall, 

Till  the  vexed  land,  responding  to  the  note, 

Rose  up  at  freedom’s  call. 

The  blithe  blue  morning’s  newly-wakened  ray 
Of  cloudless  summer  coming  freshly  down, 

Saw  chains  and  bondage,  tears  and  slavery, 

The  tyrant’s  sword  and  frown. 

15* 


m 


THE  TWO  ERAS  OF  THE  LAND. 


The  northern  noonday  saw  the  rising  war, 

Like  sudden  tempest  on  a  wind-swept  sea, 

The  shout  rose  upwards  to  the  evening-star, 

The  land,  the  land  is  free  ! 

Amid  the  oppressor’s  threats  they  planted  high 
The  ancient  flag  of  liberty, 

That  banner  floats  unthreatened  to  the  sky, — 

The  Bruce  hath  set  them  free  ! 

They  sung  the  song  of  liberty  again, 

’Twas  a  still  louder  song  than  that  of  yore  ; 

\ 

It  went  like  thunder-notes  o’er  hill  and  plain, 

It  woke  each  echoing  shore. 

It  woke  the  heart  of  age  and  heedless  youth, 

It  woke  the  spirit  of  the  sleeping  land, 

It  roused  them  to  the  voice  of  holy  truth  ; 

Who  could  that  voice  withstand  ? 

/ 

Hear  ye  the  truth,  and  hearing  it,  obey  ; 

Know  ye  the  truth,  the  truth  shall  make  you  fr 
Love  not  the  midnight,  love  the  lightsome  day, 
That  light  is  life  and  liberty. 


THE  TWO  ERAS  OF  THE  LAND. 


1 


The  Free  One  makes  you  free  ;  he  breaks  the  rod, 
He  bids  you  lift  your  heads  to  sky.  and  sun, 

As  freemen  of  the  everlasting  God, 

Kneeling  to  Him  alone. 

The  Free  One  makes  you  free  ;  be  slaves  to  none, 
Priest,  prince,  or  self,  in  body  or  in  soul ; 

Serve  thou  with  all  thy  strength  thy  God  alone, 
Yield  but  to  His  control. 

The  True  One  gives  you  truth  ;  a  heritage, 

Richer  than  that  which  kings  may  buy  or  sell, 

For  children’s  children  to  the  farthest  ao*e ; 

Guard  thou  that  treasure  well. 

Round  went  the  message,  over  rock  and  plain, 
Like  burning  words  from  lips  of  prophet  old, 

Priest,  king,  and  lord  opposed  the  voice  in  vain, 

It  would  not  be  controlled. 

Wide  o’er  the  land  went  forth  the  new  born  day, 
Brightening  alike  the  cot,  the  hall,  the  throne, 

I/ong  years  of  darkness  vanish  at  its  ray, 

Ages  of  night  have  gone. 


1 76 


martyr’s  hymn. 


The  Christ  has  come,  the  breaker  of  all  chains, 

The  giver  of  the  heavenly  liberty ; 

Peace,  light,  and  freedom  to  these  hills  and  plains  !■ 
The  land,  the  land  is  free  ! 


MARTYR’S  HYMN. 

“The  glory  of  children  are  their  fathers.” — Prov.,  xvii.  6. 

There  was  gladness  in  Zion,  her  standard  was  flying 
Free  o’er  her  battlements,  glorious  and  gay ; 

All  fair  as  the  morning  shone  forth  her  adorning, 
And  fearful  to  foes  was  her  godly  array. 

There  is  mourning  in  Zion,  her  standard  is  lying 
Defiled  in  the  dust,  to  the  spoiler  a  prey ; 

And  now  there  is  wailing,  an  1  sorrow  prevailing, 
For  the  best  of  her  children  are  weeded  away. 

The  good  have  been  taken,  their  place  is  forsaken  ; 

The  man  and  the  maiden,  the  green  and  the  grey 
The  voice  of  the  weepers  wail  over  the  sleepers, 

The  martyrs  of  Scotland  that  now  are  away  ! 


martyr’s  hymn. 


177 


The  hue  of  her  waters  is  crimsoned  with  slaughters, 
The  blood  of  the  martyrs  has  reddened  the  clay  ; 
And  dark  desolation  broods  over  the  nation, 

9 

For  the  faithful  are  perished,  the  good  are  away ! 

On  the  mountains  of  heather  they  slumber  together ; 

On  the  wastes  of  the  moorland  their  bodies  decay; 
How  sound  is  their  sleeping,  how  safe  is  their  keeping, 
Though  far  from  their  kindred  they  moulder  away. 

Their  blessing  shall  hover,  their  children  to  cover, 
Like  the  cloud  of  the  desert,  by  night  and  by  day, 
Oh,  never  to  perish,  their  names  let  us  cherish, 

The  martyrs  of  Scotland  that  now  are  away  ! 


S  (J R SUM  CORDA. 


Go  up,  go  up,  my  heart, 

Dwell  with  thy  God  above  ; 

For  here  thou  canst  not  rest, 
Nor  here  give  out  thy  love. 

Go  up,  go  up,  my  heart, 

Be  not  a  trifler  here  ; 

Ascend  above  these  clouds, 
Dwell  in  a  higher  sphere. 

Let  not  thy  love  flow  out 

To  things  so  soiled  and  dim  . 

Go  up  to  heaven  and  God, 

Take  up  thy  love  to  him. 

Waste  not  thy  precious  stores 
On  creature-love  below ; 

To  God  that  wealth  belongs, 

On  him  that  wealth  bestow. 


THE  REST-DAY. 


m 


Go  up,  reluctant  heart, 

Take  up  thy  rest  above  ; 
Arise,  earth-clinging  thoughts,. 
Ascend,'  my  lingering  love  ! 


THE  REST-DAY. 


Hcec  dies,  in  qua  quies 
Mundo  redditur ; 

Tempus  enim  est, 

Quo  resurrexit,  qui  nos  dilexit. 

Gaude,  plaude,  ama,  clama 
Voce  valida, 

Surge,  curre, 

Vere  qumre  Christum  istum, 

Corde  sorde  procul  posita. — Old  Hymx. 

For  thee  we  long  and  pray, 

O  blessed  Sabbath-morn ! 

And  all  the  week  we  say, 

O  !  when  wilt  thou  return  ? 

Come,  come  away, 

Day  of  glad  rest, 

Of  days  the  best, 

Sweet  Sabbath-day ! 


180 


TIIE  UEST-DAY. 


Thou  tellest  us  how  Christ 
Arose  and  left  the  tomb ; 

And  all  the  week  we  say, 

O  !  when  will  Sabbath  come  ? 
Come,  come  away,  etc. 

Thou  tellest  us  how  we, 

Like  him  shall  leave  the  tomb 
And  all  the  week  we  sav, 

O !  when  will  Sabbath  come  ? 
Come,  come  away,  etc. 

Thou  tellest  of  a  rest, 

A  peaceful  happy  home, 
Where  all  the  saints  are  blest ; 

O  !  when  will  Sabbath  come  ? 
Come,  come  away,  etc. 


THE  INNER  CALM. 


Calm  me,  my  Cod,  and  keep  me  calm, 
While  these  hot  breezes  blow, 

Be  like  the  nisdit-dew’s  cooling  balm 
Upon  earth’s  fevered  brow. 

Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm, 
Soft  resting  on  thy  breast, 

Soothe  me  with  holy  hymn  and  psalm 
And  bid  my  spirit  rest. 

Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm, 

Let  thine  outstretched  wing 
Be  like  the  shade  of  Elim’s  palm, 

Beside  her  desert  spring. 

* 

Yes,  keep  me  calm,  though  loud  and  rude 
The  sounds  my  ear  that  greet 
Calm  in  the  closet’s  solitude, 

Calm  in  the  bustling  street. 

16 


182 


THE  INNER  CALM. 


Calm  in  the  hour  of  buoyaut  health, 

Calm  in  my  hour  of  pain, 

Calm  in  my  poverty  or  wealth, 

Calm  in  my  loss  or  gain. 

Calm  in  the  sufferance  of  wrong, 

Like  Him  who  bore  my  shame, 

Calm  ’mid  the  threatening,  taunting  throng, 
Who  hate  thy  holy  name. 

Calm  when  the  great  world’s  news’  with  power 
My  listening  spirit  stir ; 

Let  not  the  tidings  of  the  hour 
E’er  find  too  fond  an  ear. 

Calm  as  the  ray  of  sun  or  star 
Which  storms  assail  in  vain, 

Moving  unruffled  through  earth’s  war, 

O  O' 

T1  e  eternal  calm  to  gain. 


THE  DISBURDENING 


Lay  down  thy  burden  here  ; 

With  sucb  a  weary  load 

Thou  canst  not  climb  yon  hill, 
Yon  steep  and  rugged  road. 

,rTis  rough,  and  wild,  and  high, 
Thickets  and  rocks  impede ; 

Scant  resting-place  between, 

How  canst  thou  upward  speed  ? 

Lay  down  thy  burden  here, 

Poor  weary  son  of  time  ; 

So  shall  thy  limbs  be  strong, — 

So  shalt  thou  upward  climb. 

The  sun  is  hot,  no  cloud 

To  shield  thee  from  his  ray; 

It  scorches  up  thy  strength, 

Stay  now,  poor  climber,  stay. 


184 


THE  DISBURDENING. 


Tliou  breathest  bard,  the  drops 
Are  on  thy  burning  brow ; 

Try  not  another  step, 

Lay  down  thy  burden  now. 

So  shalt  thou  climb  yon  hill, 
Up  to  its  steepest  height ; 

Like  eagle  of  the  rock, 

With  easy  joyful  flight. 

So  shalt  thou  bear  the  toils 
Thy  God  appoints  to  thee  | 

So  shalt  thou  serve  thy  God 
In  happy  liberty. 


COMPANIONSHIP. 


Not  with  the  light  and  vain, 

The  man  of  idle  feet  and  wanton  eyes ; 

Not  with  the  world’s  gay,  ever-smiling  train ; 

My  lot  be  with  the  grave  and  wrise. 

Not  with  the  trifler  gay, 

To  whom  life  seems  but  sunshine  on  the  wave, 
Not  with  the  empty  idler  of  the  day  ; 

My  lot  be  with  the  wise  and  grave. 

Not  w7ith  the  jesting  fool, 

Who  knows  not  what  to  sober  truth  is  due, 
Whose  words  fly  out  without  or  aim  or  rule ! 

My  lot  be  with  the  wise  and  true. 

Not  with  the  man  of  dreams, 

In  whose  bright  words  no  truth  nor  wisdom  lies, 
Dazzling  the  fervent  youth  with  mystic  gleams ; 

My  lot  be  with  the  simply  wise. 

16* 


186 


THE  HEAVENLY  SOWING. 


With  them  I ’d  walk  each  day, 

From  them  time’s  solemn  lessons  would  I  learn; 
That  false  from  true,  and  true  from  false  I  may 
Each  hour  more  patiently  discern. 


THE  HEAVENLY  SOWING. 

Sower  divine ! 

Sow  the  good  seed  in  me, 

Seed  for  eternity. 

’Tis  a  rough  barren  soil, 

Yet  by  thy  care  and  toil, 

Make  it  a  fruitful  field 
An  hundred  fold  to  yield. 

Sower  divine, 

Plough  up  this  heart  of  mine ! 

Sower  divine  ! 

Quit  not  this  wretched  field 
Till  thou  hast  made  it  yield  ; 

Sow  thou  by  day  and  night, 

In  darkness  and  in  light. 


THE  HEAVENLY  SOWING. 


187 


Stay  not  thy  hand,  but  sow; 
Then  shall  the  harvest  grow. 
Sower  divine, 

Sow  deep  this  heart  of  mine  ! 

Sower  divine! 

Let  not  this  barren  clay 
Lead  thee  to  turn  away  ; 

Let  not  my  fruitlessness 
Provoke  thee  not  to  bless  * 
Let  not  this  field  be  dry, 
Refresh  it  from  on  high. 
Sower  divine, 

Water  this  heart  of  mins  f 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


“  Eccg  inundus  turbat  et  amatur,  quid  si  tranquillus  essot” 
—Augustine. 


Trust  not  these  seas  again, 
Tho’  smooth  and  fair  ; 
Trust  not  these  waves  again, 
Shipwreck  is  there. 

Trust  not  these  stars  again, 

O  7 

Tho’  bright  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  these  skies  again, 
Tempest  is  there. 

Trust  not  that  breeze  again, 
Gentle  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  these  clouds  again. 
Lightning  is  there. 

o  o 

Trust  not  that  isle  again, 
Flower-crowned  and  fair; 
Trust  not  its  rocks  again, 
Earthquake  is  there. 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


189 


Trust  Dot  these  flowers  again, 
Fragrant  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  that  rose  again, 
Blighting  is  there. 

Trust  not  that  earth  again, 
Verdant  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  its  fields  again, 
Winter  is  there. 

Trust  not  these  hopes  again. 
Sunny  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  that  smile  again, 
Peril  is  there. 

Trust  not  this  world  again, 
Smiling  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  its  sweets  again, 
Wormwood  is  there. 

Trust  not  its  love  a<xain. 
Sparkling  and  fair ; 

Trust  not  its  joy  again, 
Sorrow  is  there. 


THE  TIME  TO  MEET, 


*T  is  autumn  now  ; 

And  as  we  part, 

The  dry  brown  leaf 
Is  rustling  o’er  the  ground ; 

Making  the  sadness  sadder,  and  the  cloud 
Of  the  long  farewell  deeper  in  its  gloom. 

Not  thus  let  us  meet ; 

Mid  falling  leaves 

And  sere,  frost-stricken  flowers  ; 

But  when  the  leaf  is  budding  in  its  freshness, 
And  the  rich  blossom  putting  forth  its  gladness. 
Not  thus  let  us  meet; 

It  is  too  sad  ; 

But  when  the  buried  verdure 
Is  coming  up  to  meet  the  joyous  sun, 

When  the  new  spring  looks  round  upon  the  hills, 
Full  of  youth’s  buoyant  promise  and  bright  song, 
Then  lot  us  meet. 


THE  TIME  TO  MEET. 


191 


Yes,  when  the  spring-breeze  blows, 

And  the  gay  garden  blooms, 

And  the  wide  forest  waves  with  budding  greeu, 

And  the  freed  streamlet  warbles  through  the  broom, 
And  the  clear  air  takes  lip  the  happy  note 
Of  skylark  singing  to  the  rosy  dawn, 

Then  let  us  meet ; 

And  meeting,  cheer  each  other’s  weaiy  heart 
With  the  dear  hope  of  everlasting  spring, 

And  the  fair  land  that  spreads  beneath  the  slopea 
Of  the  eternal  hills, 

Where  nothing  dies ; 

Where  nothing:  fades ; 

But  all  is  without  ending  or  decay, 

The  sky,  the  sun,  the  light, 

The  peace,  the  truth,  the  love, 

And  above  all,  the  joy  1 


GONE  BEFORE. 


Thou  art  in  heaven,  and  I  am  still  on  earth; 

’Tis  years,  long  years,  since  we  were  parted  hero, 

I  still  a  wanderer  amid  grief  and  fear, 

And  thou  the  tenant  of  a  brighter  sphere. 

Yet  still  thou  seemest  near ; 

But  yesterday  it  seems, 

Since  the  last  clasp  was  giveu, 

Since  our  lips  met, 

And  our  eyes  looked  into  each  other’s  depths. 

Thou  art  amid  the  deathless,  I  still  here, 

Amid  things  mortal,  in  a  land  of  graves, 

A  land  o’er  which  the  heavy-beating  waves 
Of  changing  time  move  on,  a  land  where  raves 
The  storm,  which  whoso  braves 
Must  have  his  anchor  fixed 
Firmly  within  the  vail ; — 

So  let  my  anchor  be ; 

Such  be  my  consolation  and  my  hope  ! 


GONE  BEFORE. 


193 


Thou  art  amid  the  sorrowless,  I  here 
Amid  the  sorrowing ;  and  yet  not  long 
Shall  I  remain  ’mid  sin,  and  fear,  and  wrong : 
Soon  shall  I  join  you  in  your  sinless  song. 
Thy  day  has  come,  not  gone, 

Thy  sun  has  risen,  not  set, 

Thy  life  is  now  beyond 
The  reach  of  death  or  change ; 

Not  ended  but  begun, 

Such  shall  our  life  be  soon, 

And  then, — the  meeting-day, 

How  full  of  light  and  joy ! 

All  fear  of  change  cast  out, 

All  shadows  passed  away, 

The  union  sealed  for  ever 
Between  us  and  our  Lord. 

17 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER. 

Yes,  for  me,  for  me  lie  caretli 
With  a  brother’s  tender  care  ; 

Yes,  with  me,  with  me  he  shareth 
Every  burden,  every  fear. 

Yes,  o’er  me,  o’er  me  he  watcheth, 
Ceaseless  watcheth,  night  and  day : 

Yes,  even  me,  even  me  he  snatcheth 
From  the  perils  of  the  vray. 

Yes,  for  me  he  standeth  pleading. 

At  the  mercy-seat  above ; 

Ever  for  me  interceding, 

Constant  in  untiring  love. 

Yes,  in  me  abroad  he  sheddeth 
Joys  unearthly, — love  and  light ; 

And  to  cover  me  he  spreadeth 
His  paternal  wing  of  might. 


THE  ELDER  BROTHER. 


195 


Yes,  in  me,  in  me  lie  dwelleth ; — 
1  in  him,  and  he  in  me  ! 

And  my  empty  soul  he  filleth, 
Here  and  through  eternity. 

Thus  I  wait  for  his  returning, 
Singing  all  the  way  to  heaven ; 
Such  the  joyful  song  of  morning, 
Such  the  tranquil  song  of  even. 


LIFE  FROM  THE  DEAD 


Spirit  of  everlasting  grace, 

Infinite  source  of  life,  come  down, 

These  tombs  unlock,  these  dead  upraise, 

Thy  glorious  power  and  love  make  known- 

Breathe  o’er  this  valley  of  the  dead, 

Send  forth  thy  quickening  might  abroad, 

\ 

Till,  rising  from  their  tombs,  they  spread, 

In  full  arrav, — the  host  of  God  ! 

«  * 

Thy  heritage  lies  desolate, 

And  all  thy  pleasant  places  mburn ; 

0  look  upon  our  low  estate, 

In  loving  kindness,  Lord,  return  ! 

Now  let  thy  glory  be  revealed, 

Now  let  thy  presence  with  us  rest ; — 

O  heal  us,  and  we  shall  be  healed  ! 

O  bless  us,  and  we  shall  be  blest ! 


EVER  NEAR 


I  close  my  heavy  eye, — 

Saviour  ever  near ! 

I  lift  my  soul  on  high 

Through  the  darkness  drear. 
Be  thou  my  light,  I  cry, 

Saviour  ever  dear ! 

I  feel  thine  arms  around, 

Saviour,  ever  near ! 

With  thee  let  me  be  found, 

So  shall  I  never  fear, 
Whatever  ill  abounds  ; — 

Saviour,  ever  dear ! 

Thine  is  the  day  and  night, 
Saviour,  ever  near ; 

Thine  is  the  dark  and  light,— 

Be  thou  my  covert  here ; 

O  shield  me  with  thy  might, 

Saviour,  ever  dear ! 

17* 


198 


IT  IS  FINISHED. 


And  when  I  come  to  die, 
Saviour,  ever  near, 
Receive  my  parting  sigh : 

And,  in  the  hour  of  fear, 
Be  to  my  spirit  nigh, 

Saviour,  ever  dear ! 


IT  IS  FINISHED. 

Blessed  be  God,  our  God ! 

Who  gave  for  us  his  well-beloved  Son, 

His  gift  of  gifts,  all  other  gifts  in  one. 

Blessed  be  God,  our  God ! 

What  will  he  not  bestow  ? 

Who  freely  gave  this  mighty  gift,  unbought, 
Unmerited,  unheeded  and  unsought, 

What  will  he  not  bestow  ? 

He  spared  not  His  Son ! 

’Tis  this  that  silences  each  rising  feai, 

’Tis  this  that  bids  the  hard  thought  disappear 
He  spared  not  His  Son ! 


IT  IS  FINISHED. 


199 


Who  shall  condemn  us  now  ? 

Since  Christ  has  died,  and  risen,  and  gone  above, 
For  us  to  plead  at  the  right  hand  of  love, 

Who  shall  condemn  us  now  ? 

’Tis  God  that  justifies  ! 

Who  shall  recall  the  pardon  or  the  grace, 

Or  who  the  broken  chain  of  guilt  replace  f 
’Tis  God  that  justifies  ! 

•  i 

The  victory  is  ours ! 

For  us  in  might  came  forth  the  One, 

For  us  he  fought  the  fight,  the  triumph  won  ; 
The  victory  is  ours  ! 


PRESS  ON. 


Be  brave,  my  brother ! 

Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith 

With  weapons  proved  and  true  ; 

Be  faithful  and  unshrinking  to  the  death, 
Thy  God  will  bear  thee  through  ; 

The  strife  is  terrible, 

Yet  ’tis  not,  his  not  long ; 

i 

The  foe  is  not  invincible, 

Though  fierce  and  strong. 


Be  brave,  my  brother ! 

The  recompense  is  great. 

The  kingdom  bright  and  fair  ; 
Beyond  the  glory  of  all  earthly  state, 
Shall  be  the  glory  there. 

Grudge  not  the  heavy  cost, 

Faint  not  at  labor  here, 

’Tis  but  a  life-time  at  the  most, 

The  day  of  rest  is  near. 


PRESS  ON. 


Be  brave,  my  brother  ! 

He,  whom  thou  servest,  slights 
Not  even  his  weakest  one  ; 

No  deed,  though  poor,  shall  be  forgot, 
However  feebly  done. 

The  prayer,  the  wish,  the  thought, 

The  faintly  spoken  word,.. 

The  plan  that  seemed  to  come  to  nought, 
Each  has  its  own  reward. 

Be  brave,  my  brother  ! 

Enlarge  thy  heart  and  soul ; 

Spread  out  thy  free  glad  love, 

Encompass  earth,  embrace  the  sea, 

As  does  that  sky  above. 

Let  no  man  see  thee  stand 
In  slothful  idleness, 

As  if  there  were  no  work  for  thee 
In  such  a  wulderness. 

Be  brave,  my  brother  ! 

Stint  not  the  liberal  hand, 

Give  in  the  joy  of  love  ; 

So  shall  thy  crown  be  bright,  and  great 
Thy  recompense  above ; 


202 


LAUS  DEO. 


Reward, — not  like  tlie  deed, 

That  poor  weak  deed  of  tliine  ; 
But  like  the  God  himself  who  gives, 
Eternal  and  divine. 


EAUS  DEO. 

Everlasting  praises 
To  the  Father  be ! 

Everlasting  praises 
To  the  Saviour  be  ! 

Everlasting-  praises 
To  the  Spirit  be ! 

Everlasting  praises 

To  the  blessed  Trinity  ! 

Everlasting  praises 
For  the  Father’s  love  1 

Everlasting  praises 

For  the  Saviour’s  love  1 

Everlasting  praises 
For  the  Spirit’s  love  ! 

Everlasting  praises 

To  the  Three-One  God  of  love  1 


CREATION 


In  the  beginning  was  the  THE  WORD; 

9 

The  Word  was  God. 

In  the  beginning  was  the  Word ; 

And  His  abode 

From  everlasting  was  with  God. 

His  name  . 

I  AM,— 

Jehovah,  God,  the  Lord. 

Ever  to  be  adored  ; 

The  eternal  Son, — 

The  ever-blessed  One. 

From  all,  to  all  eternity, 

The  brightness  of  the  eternal  Father’s  glory  He ! 


Creator  of  the  heaven  and  earth, 
Their  Lord  and  King. 
Creator  of  the  heaven  and  earth, 
The  angels  sing ! 

O  O 


204 


CREATION. 


To  him  all  praise  and  glory  bring; 

His  power 
Adore, 

From  which  all  things  had  birth, 

By  which  they  still  stand  forth 
In  beauty  glad, 

With  heavenly  radiance  clad. 

Praise,  praise  His  ever-flowing*  love, 

That  brightens  all  below,  and  gladdens  all  above. 


“  Let  there  be  light,”  ’twas  He  that  spoke, 

“  And  there  was  light.” 

“  Let  there  be  light,”  ’twas  He  that  spoke, 

And  the  lone:  night 

o  o 

At  His  divine  command  took  flight. 

o 

The  ray 
Of  day 

O’er  the  deep  darkness  broke ; 

The  sleeping  world  awoke  : 

Earth,  sea,  and  sky 
Burst  forth  in  praises  high 
To  Him  who  made  the  light  to  be : 

He  is  the  Light  of  light,  and  there  is  none  but  He ! 


CREATION. 


205 


This  green,  glad,  goodly  earth  of  ours 
His  hand  did  frame. 

This  green,  glad,  goodly  earth  of  ours 
Doth  still  proclaim, 

By  day  and  night,  His  wondrous  name. 
These  seas 
Are  His ; 

Each  mountain-peak  that  towers  ; 

These  clouds  with  their  fresh  showers ; 
These  streams  that  run 
Quick -glancing  in  the  sun, 

These  tossing  woods,  these  trembling  flowers, 

And  all  that  men  call  bright  in  this  bright  world  of 

o  o 

ours. 

All  that  has  life  and  breath  He  made, 

In  earth,  sea,  sky. 

All  that  has  life  and  breath  He  made, 

To  swim  or  fly, 

To  creep  or  bound  ;  and,  in  his  eye, 

All  good 
They  stood, 

In  beauty  pure  arrayed, 

As  if  they  could  not  fade. 

18 


206 


CREATION. 


How  fair  this  frame, 

How  excellent  His  name, 

Who,  in  the  fulness  of  His  love. 

Transplanted  thus  to  earth  the  Paradise  above  1 

All  glory  to  the  eternal  WORD, 

Earth’s  Lord  and  King : 

All  glory  to  the  eternal  Word, 

Ye  angels,  sing. 

Ye  sons  of  earth  your  tribute  bring : 
His  name, 

Proclaim, — 

Jehovah,  God,  the  Lord  ; 

.  Ever  to  be  adored. 

Maker  of  all, 

Before  him  prostrate  fall : 

By  every  voice,  and  tribe,  and  tongue, 

For  ever  and  for  ever  be  His  praises  sung. 


DESERT  LILIES. 


Desert  lilies,  desert  lilies  ! 

Blooming  gaily  in  the  sand 
Of  this  untrodden  land  ; 

With  your  leaf  as  soft  and  green, 
With  your  flower  as  fair  in  tint, 

As  delicate  in  form 
As  beautiful  in  hue, 

As  fragrant  and  as  fresh, 

As  sweet  at  morn  or  even, 

As  bright  with  smiles  and  dew, 

As  in  our  happier  plains 
Cherished  by  genial  rains. 

Desert  lilies,  desert  lilies  ! 

Shining  quietly  like  gems, 

Upon  your  verdant  stems  ; 

With  no  breath  of  man  to  dim  you, 
With  no  city  smoke  to  taint  you, 
With  no  hand  of  man  to  pluck  you, 


208 


DESERT  LILIES. 


With  no  eye  of  man  to  see  you, 

With  no  care  of  man  to  tend  you, 

With  no  child’s  glad  face  to  watch  you, 
As  you  spiing  and  as  you  bloom  ; 

With  no  sorrowing  lip  to  mourn  you, 
As  you  fade  and  as  you  die. 

Nought  but  the  wind’s  caress 
In  this  lone  wilderness ! 

Desert  lilies,  desert  lilies  ! 

Bidding  welcome  to  the  ray 

* 

Of  this  fierce- flaming  day, 

Courting  no  cloud,  nor  shade 
Of  rock,  or  cliff,  or  glade, 

Opening  your  purple  eyes 
Unfearing  to  these  skies. 

What  sunlight  ye  have  seen. 

What  moonshine  in  these  heavens, 
What  starlight  clear  and  glad, 

What  soft  dev/  at  early  dawn, 

What  cool  breezes  o’er  this  waste  ! 
What  sunsets  ye  have  seen, 

On  these  wondrous  peaks  around, 

What  tints  of  purple  glow. 


DESERT  LILIES. 


209 


At  sunset  or  at  morn  ? 

✓ 

What  strange  and  solemn  airs 
Have  ye  heard,  as  all  night  long 
Ye  listened,  night  by  night., 

Coming  forth  from  yon  wild  crags, 
Moving  out  along  these  slopes. 

Stealing  down  yon  mighty  hill 
To  the  silent  sands  beneath, 

Creeping  through  the  wiry  boughs, 

Of  these  tarfas  far  and  near. 

0  life,  how  glad  and  blest, 

Thou  seem’st  in  such  a  waste ! 

0  beauty,  what  a  power, 

To  cheer  in  loneliest  hour ! 

O  earth  where  is  the  spot, 

Which  thy  God  visits  not? 

On  which  his  eye  of  light 
Rests  not  in  gentle  love  ; 

O’er  its  most  barren  sands, 

Rejoicing  from  above ! 

O  desert  rocks,  if  one  small  leaf 
Can  make  these  wastes  look  fair, 

What  will  ye  be  when  these  scorched  plains, 

Earth’s  richest  buds  shall  bear  ? 

18* 


210 


SUMMER  GLADNESS. 


When  eastern  suns  shall  cease  to  scorch 
And  storms  no  more  destroy  ; 

And  these  lone  valleys  shall  give  forth 
Their  streams,  and  flowers,  and  joy. 


SUMMER  GLADNESS. 

What  a  world  with  all  its  sorrows  I 
What  a  scene,  would  it  but  stay  ; 

What  an  earth,  if  all  its  morrows 
Were  as  fair  as  this  “  to-day  !” 

When  earth’s  summer  pulse  is  beating 
With  the  fever-fire  of  June, 

And  the  flowers  fling  up  their  greeting, 
Quivering  to  the  joyous  noon. 

When  the  streamlet,  smiling  gladly, 
Hurries  calmly,  brightly  by, 

Not  a  voice  around  speaks  sadly, 

Not  a  murmur  nor  a  sigh. 


SUMMER  GLADNESS. 


211 


Sunbeams  with  tlieir  fond  caresses, 
Smooth  each  rosebud’s  velvet  fold, 
Lingering  in  the  glowing  tresses 
Of  yon  rich  laburnum’s  gold. 

Nature  all  its  gay  adorning 
Opens  to  the  day’s  bright  bliss, 
Like  a  child  at  early  morning, 
Wakened  bv  its  mother’s  kiss. 


What  a  world  !  when  all  its  sorrow 
Shall  for  ever  pass  away  ! 

What  an  earth  !  when  each  u  to-morrow” 
Shall  be  fairer  than  “  to-day  ” 


THE  FRIEND. 


There  is  a  star  in  yonder  sky, 

Above  all  stars  it  seems  to  shine, 

’Tis  long  since  first  it  fixed  my  eye, 

And  I  have  learned  to  call  it  mine. 

It  rose  out  of  my  own  blue  sea, 

Then  passed  above  those  mountains  green. 
Moving  all  placidly. 

As  if  it  loved  to  watch  the  scene. 

Far  up  the  heavens  it  floated  slow, 

Gleaming  across  yon  solemn  tower, 

As  if  it  loved  the  scene  below  ; — 

A  willing  lingerer  hour  by  hour. 

It  seemed  to  take  its  place  each  night, 

As  sentinel  to  guard  my  rest, 

An  eye  of  love  and  gentle  light, 

Pouring  sweet  thoughts  into  my  breast. 


TH£  FRIEND. 


213 


In  through  my  lattice  as  I  lay 

Half  soothed  to  sleep,  it  nightly  shone, 

And  as  I  gazed  upon  its  ray 
I  felt  that  I  was  not  alone. 

What  tears  that  gentle  star  has  dried, 

What  joy  that  sparkling  orb  has  given  ; 

Thoughts  for  this  earth  too  high,  too  wide, 
Dreams  of  its  own  all-radiant  heaven. 

It  spoke  of  day  beyond  this  night, 

In  the  glad  land  where  all  is  fair  ; 

It  pointed  to  the  home  of  light, 

And  bid  me  rest  my  spirit  there. 

It  spoke  of  Him  whose  love  is  light, 

Whose  death  is  life,  whose  cross  is  peace, 

Whose  favor  is  the  star  of  night, 

The  source  and  pledge  of  endless  bliss. 

May  I  not  love  that  star  on  high  ? 

May  not  its  light  the  fairest  seem  ? 

May  I  not  trace  a  loving  eye, 

A  kindly  smile  in  every  beam  ? 


THE  BLANK. 


The  flowers  of  Spring  have  come  and  gone ; 

Bright  were  the  blossoms,  brief  their  stay  ; 
They  shone,  and  they  were  shone  upon, 

They  flourished,  faded,  passed  away. 

So  hidden  from  our  sorrowing  eyes, 

Our  young,  sweet,  spring-bloom  buried  lies  ; 
One  blast  of  earth  swept  o’er  the  flower, 

It  died,  the  blossom  of  an  hour. 


The  Summer  flowers  are  freshly  blowing 
Beneath  glad  July’s  genial  morn  ; 
Like  smiles  the  face  of  earth  bestrowing, 
For  fragrance  and  for  beauty  born  ; 
My  summer-flower  has  passed  away, 

’Tis  now7  a  blank,  where  all  was  gay ; 

A  blank,  where  at  each  evening’s  close, 

I  hoped  to  w7atch  my  budding  rose. 


THE  BLANK. 


215 


Soon  Autumn,  with  overflowing  measure, 
Will  hang  upon  each  bending  tree 
The  clusters  of  its  golden  treasure, 

The  life  of  earth’s  vast  family. 

Alas,  in  one  disastrous  hour, 

From  my  green  vine  has  fallen  the  flower ; 
A  blighted  hue  its  branches  wear, 

My  autumn  tree  looks  cold  and  bare. 

And  Winter,  with  its  blast  wide-roaming, 
In  cloud  and  darkness  shall  come  forth ; 
Beneath  its  grave  of  snow  entombing 
The  various  verdure  of  the  earth. 

But  my  sweet  blossom,  safely  laid, 

Beneath  yon  cloister’s  solemn  shade, 

In  gentle  undisturbed  repose, 

Shall  sleep  in  winter’s  grave  of  snows. 


CHOOSE  WELL. 


0  quam  dulce,  quam  jucundum 
Erit  tunc  odisse  mundum, 

Et  quam  triste,  quam  amarum 
Munium  habuisse  carum. — Old  Hymn. 

O  dead  in  sin  ! 

Wilt  thou  still  choose  to  die 
The  death  of  deaths  eternally  f 
Dost  thou  not  feel  the  gloom 
Of  the  eternal  tomb? 

O  dead  to  life  ! 

Wilt  thou  the  life  from  heaven 
Reject?  the  life  so  freely  given  ; 

Wilt  thou  choose  sin  and  tears 
Through  everlasting  years  ? 

O  dead  to  Christ ! 

Wilt  thou  despise  the  love 

Of  Him  who  stooped  from  joy  above, 

To  shame  on  earth  for  thee, 

That  he  might  set  thee  free  ? 


T  WAS  I  THAT  DID  IT. 


217 


O  dead  to  God  ! 

Wilt  thou  not  seek  his  face  ? 

Wdlt  thou  not  turn  and  own  the  grace  ! 
Wilt  thou  not  take  the  heaven, 

So  freely  to  thee  giveu  ? 

i 


’TWAS  I  THAT  DID  IT, 

I  bee  the  crowd  in  Pilate’s  hall, 

I  mark  their  wrathful  mien  ; 

Their  shouts  of  “  crucify”  appall, 

With  blasphemy  between. 

And  of  that  shouting  multitude 
I  feel  that  I  am  one ; 

And  in  that  din  of  voices  rude, 

I  recognise  my  own. 

I  see  the  scourges  tear  his  back, 

I  see  the  piercing  crown, 

And  of  that  crowd  who  smote  and  mock, 

I  feel  that  I  am  one, 

19 


218 


’t  WAS  I  THAT  DID  II. 

Around  yon  cross,  the  throng  I  see, 
Mocking  the  sufferer’s  groau, 

Yet  still  my  voice  it  seems  to  be, — • 
As  if  I  mocked  alone. 

’Twas  I  that  shed  the  sacred  blood, 

I  nailed  him  to  the  tree, 

I  crucified  the  Christ  of  God, 

I  joined  the  mockery. 

Yet  not  the  less  that  blood  avails, 
To  cleanse  away  my  sin, 

And  not  the  less  that  cross  prevails 
To  give  me  peace  within. 


THE  USEFUL  LIFE. 


"ivxv  ll0V>  'pvxv  iuoy> 

’A vaora,  ri  k aOeudei?. 

Old  Greek  Hymn; 


Go  labor  on  ;  spend,  and  be  spent, — 
Thy  joy  to  do  the  Father’s  will ; 

It  is  the  way  the  Master  went, 

Should  not  the  servant  tread  it  still  ? 


Go  labor  on  ;  ’tis  not  for  nought ; 

Thy  earthly  loss  is  heavenly  gain  ; 

Men  heed  thee,  love  thee,  praise  thee  not ; 
The  Master  praises, — what  are  men  ? 


Go  labor  on  ;  enough,  while  here, 

If  He  shall  praise  thee,  if  he  deign 
Thy  willing  heart  to  mark  and  cheer ; 
No  toil  for  Him  shall  be  in  vain. 


220 


THE  USEFUL  LIFE. 


Go  labor  on  ;  your  hands  are  weak, 

Your  knees  are  faint,  your  soul  cast  down , 
Yet  falter  not ;  the  prize  you  seek, 

Is  near, — a  kingdom  and  a  crown  ! 

Go  labor  on,  while  it  is  day, 

The  world’s  dark  night  is  hastening  on ; 
Speed,  speed  thy  work,  cast  sloth  away : 

It  is  not  thus  that  souls  are  won. 

Men  die  in  darkness  at  your  side, 

Without  a  hope  to  cheer  the  tomb  ; 

Take  up  the  torch  and  wave  it  wide, 

The  torch  that  lights  time’s  thickest  gloom. 

Toil  on,  faint  not,  keep  watch  and  pray ; 

Be  wise  the  erring  soul  to  win  ; 

Go  forth  into  the  world’s  highway, 

Compel  the  wanderer  to  come  in. 

Toil  on,  and  in  thy  toil  rejoice  ; 

F or  toil  comes  rest,  for  exile  home ; 

Soon  sbalt  thou  hear  the  Bridegroom’s  voice, 
The  midnight  peal,  behold  I  come ! 


PASSING  THROUGH. 


I  walk  as  one  who  knows  that  he  is  treading 
A  stranger  soil ; 

As  one  round  whom  a  serpent-world  is  spreading 
Its  subtle  coil. 

I  walk  as  one  but  yesterday  delivered 
From  a  sharp  chain  ; 

Who  trembles  lest  the  bond  so  newly  severed 
Be  bound  again. 

I  walk  as  one  who  feels  that  he  is  breathing 
Ungenial  air ; 

For  whom  as  wiles,  the  tempter  still  is  wrreathing 
The  bright  and  fair. 

My  steps,  I  know,  are  on  the  plains  of  danger, 
For  sin  is  near ; 

But  looking  up,  I  pass  along,  a  stranger, 

In  haste  and  fear. 

19* 


222 


PASSING  THROUGH. 


This  earth  has  lost  its  power  to  drag  me  downward  ; 
Its  spell  is  gone  ; 

My  course  is  now  right  upward,  and  right  onward. 

To  yonder  throne. 

* 

Hour  after  hour  of  time’s  dark  night  is  stealing 
In  gloom  away ; 

Speed  thy  fair  dawn  of  light,  and  joy,  and  healing, 
Thou  Star  of  day  ! 

For  thee  its  God,  its  King,  the  long-rejected, 

Earth  groans  and  cries  ; 

For  thee  the  long-beloved,  the  long-expected, 

Thy  bride  still  sighs  ! 


FORWARD. 


Shall  this  life  of  mine  be  wasted  t 
Shall  this  vineyard  lie  unfilled  ? 

Shall  true  joy  pass  by  untasted, 

And  this  soul  remain  unfilled? 

Shall  the  God-given  hours  be  scattered. 
Like  the  leaves  upon  the  plain  ? 

Shall  the  blossoms  die  unwatered 
By  the  drops  of  heavenly  rain  ? 

Shall  I  see  each  fair  sun  waking, 

And  not  feel,  it  wakes  for  me  ? 

Each  glad  morning  brightly  breaking 
And  not  feel,  it  breaks  for  me  ? 

Shall  I  see  the  roses  blowing, 

And  not  wish  to  bloom  as  they  ? 

Holy  fragrance  round  me  throwing, 
Luring  others  on  the  way. 


224 


FORWARD. 


Shall  I  hear  the  free  bird  singing 
In  the  summer’s  stainless  sky, 

Far  aloft  its  glad  flight  winging, 

And  not  seek  to  soar  as  high  ? 

Shall  this  heart  still  spend  its  treasures 
On  the  things  that  fade  and  die ; 

Shall  it  court  the  hollow  pleasures 
Of  bewildering  vanity  \ 

Shall  these  lips  of  mine  be  idle ; 

Shall  I  open  them  in  vain  ? 

Shall  I  not  with  God’s  own  bridle 
Their  frivolities  restrain  ? 

Shall  these  eyes  of  mine  still  wander  ? — 
Or,  no  longer  turned  afar, 

Fix  a  firmer  gaze  and  fonder 

On  the  bright  and  morning  Star  ? 

Shall  these  feet  of  mine,  delaying, 

Still  in  ways  of  sin  be  found, 

Braving  snares  and  madly  straying 
On  the  world’s  bewitching  ground  ? 


FORWARD. 


225 


No,  I  was  not  born  to  trifle 
Life  away  iu  dreams  or  sin ! 

No,  I  must  not,  dare  not  stifle 
Lono-ings  sucb  as  these  within ! 

Swiftly  moving,  upward,  onward, 

Let  my  soul  in  faith  be  borne ; 

Calmly  gazing,  skyward,  sunward, 

Let  my  eye  unshrinking  turn ! 

Where  the  Cross,  God’s  love  revealing, 
Sets  the  fettered  spirit  free, 

Where  it  sheds  its  wondrous  healing, 
There,  my  soul,  thy  rest  shall  be  ! 

Then  no  longer  idly  dreaming 
Shall  I  fling  my  years  away ; 

Bit,  each  precious  hour  redeeming, 
Wait  for  the  eternal  day  ! 


NOTHING  BETWEEN. 


Fondiy,  fondly  returneth  the  daylight 

To  the  old  hill’s  grey  peak  ere  the  dawn  has  begun  ; 

Slowly,  slowly  recedeth  the  daylight 

From  the  old  hill’s  grey  peak  when  the  long  day  is 
done. 

Softly,  softly  returneth  the  ripple 

To  its  rest  on  the  sand  of  yon  green-margined  bay, 

Sadly,  sadly  recedeth  the  ripple 

To  mingle  again  with  the  sea’s  drifting  spray. 

Gladly,  gladly  the  dew  of  the  twilight 

Floats  up  to  the  rainbow  at  blush  of  the  dawn, 

Slowly,  slowly  the  dew  of  the  twilight, 

Seeks  the  dark  sod  again  when  the  sun  is  with¬ 
drawn. 

It  is  thus,  even  thus,  that  the  sunlight  of  heaven, 

Returns  and  retires  with  the  morn  and  the  even ; 


NOTHING  BETWEEN. 


227 


Tims  slowly  retiring  as  sleep  seals  the  eye, 

Returning  at  day-spring  with  joy  from  on  high. 
Night’s  last  gleam  and  truest,  my  God’s  gracious  love, 
Morn’s  hrst  beam  and  fondest,  his  joy  from  above. 

Yet,  ’tis  not  night  alone  that  comes  between 
My  God  and  me,  to  mar  the  peaceful  scene ; 

But  the  world’s  blazing  day,  hour  after  hour, 

Beats  on  my  head,  and  with  its  scorching  power 
Dries  up  my  dewT  and  sap,  nay  dims  my  eye 
"With  its  bewildering  blaze  of  vanity. 

Then  comes  the  quiet  and  the  cool  of  night, 

To  give  me  back  tbe  calm,  of  which  the  light 
Of  this  gay  world  had  sought  me  to  bereave. 

O  gentle  shadows  of  the  tranquil  eve  ! 

Eve  with  thy  stillness  aud  soul-soothing  balm, 

What  do  I  owe  thee  for  thy  solemn  calm ! 

Thou  comest  down  like  some  peace-bringing  dove, 

To  soothe  and  cheer  me  with  thy  silent  love. 


FOLLOW  THOU  ME. 


Restore  to  me  the  freshness  of  my  youth, 

And  give  me  back  my  soul’s  keen  edge  again, 

That  time  has  blunted  !  0,  my  early  truth, — 

Shall  I  not  you  regain  ? 

Ah,  mine  has  been  a  wasted  life  at  best, 

All  unreality  and  long  unrest ; 

Yes,  I  have  lived  in  vain  J 

But  now  no  more  in  vain ; — my  soul,  awake, 

Shake  off  the  snare,  untwist  the  fastening  chain  : 
Arise,  go  forth,  the  selfish  slumber  break, 

Thy  idle  dreams  restrain  ! 

Still  half  thy  life  before  thee  lies  untrod, 

Live  for  the  endless  living,  live  for  God  ! — 

I  must  not  live  in  vain  1 

My  God  !  the  way  is  rough  and  sad  the  night, 

And  my  soul  faints  and  breathes  this  weeping  strain , 
And  the  world  hates  me  with  its  bitterest  spite,— 

For  I  have  left  its  train, 

4  ' 


FOLLOW  THOU  MU. 


229 


With  thee  and  with  thy  saints  to  cast  my  lot: 

Ah,  my  dear  Lord,  let  me  not  he  forgot, 

Let  me  not  live  in  vain  ! 

% 

Can  we  not  part  in’ silence,  since  for  ever, 

This  world  and  I?  From  scorn  and  taunt  refrain ? 
Must  it  still  hate  and  wound  ?  still  stir  the  fever 
Of  this  poor  throbbing  brain  ? 

Ah,  yes,  it  must  be  so,  my  God,  my  God ; 

’Tis  the  true  discipline,  the  needed  rod, 

Else  I  should  live  in  vain  ! 

The  foe  is  strong, — his  venomed  rage  I  dread, 

Yet,  O  my  God,  do  thou  his  wrath  restrain ; 

Shield  me  in  battle,  soothe  my  aching  head 
In  the  sharp  hour  of  pain  : 

But  more  than  this,  oh  give  me  toiling  faith, 
Large-hearted  love,  and  zeal  unto  the  death  : 

Let  me  not  live  in  vain. 

Restore  to  me  the  freshness  of  my  youth, 

And  give  me  back  my  soul’s  keen  edge  again  : 

Ah,  let  my  spring  return  !  bright  hope  and  truth 

Shall  I  not  you  regain  ? 

20 


230 


VANITY. 


No  wasted  life,  my  God,  shall  mine  now  be, 

Hours,  days,  and  years  filled  up  with  toil  for  thee : 
I  shall  not  live  in  vain  ! 


VANITY. 


Te  u?iT]d(jg  uyada  ova  Igtiv  iv  t/j  Ko.rripa[xevT]  yy . — ORIGES 

Nay  ’tis  not  that  we  fancied  it, 

This  magic  world  of  ours ; 

We  thought  its  skies  were  only  blue, 

Its  fields  all  sun  and  flowers. 

Its  streams  all  summer-bright  and  glad, 

Its  seas  all  smiles  and  calms, 

Its  path  from  youth  to  age,  one  long 
Green  avenue  of  palms. 

But  clouds  came  up  with  glooom  and  shade 
Our  sky  was  overcast, 

The  hot  mist  threw  its  blight  around, 
Sunshine  and  flowers  went  past. 


VANITY. 


231 


Hopes  perished,  that  had  hung  like  wreaths 
Around  youth’s  buoyant  brow, 

And  joys,  like  withered  autumn  leaves, 
Dropped  from  the  shaken  bough. 


Yet  from  these  clouds  comes  forth  the  light, — 
Light  beaming  from  on  high  ; 

And  from  these  faded  flowers  spring  up 
The  flowers  that  can  not  die. 

Far  fairer  is  the  land  we  seek, 

A  land  without  a  tomb, 

An  everlasting  resting-place, 

A  sure  and  quiet  home. 

Far  sunnier  than  the  hills  of  time 
Are  its  eternal  hills  ; 

Far  fresher  than  the  rills  of  earth 
Are  its  eternal  rills. 

No  blight  can  fall  upon  its  flowers, 

No  darkness  fill  its  air, 

It  has  a  day  forever  blight, 

4 

For  Christ,  its  sun,  is  there. 


232 


MACHPELAH. 


0  Sun  of  love  and  peace,  arise, 
Thy  light  upon  us  beam  ; 
For  all  this  life  is  but  a  sleep, 
And  all  this  wo: Id  a  dream. 


MACHPELAH. 

Only  a  tomb,  no  more  ! 

A  rock-hewn  sepulchre, 

And  this,  and  this  is  all  that  ’s  thine, 
Fair  Canaan’s  mighty  heir! 

Only  a  tomb,  no  more ! 

A  future  resting-place, 

When  God  shall  lay  thee  down,  and  bid 
All  thy  long  wanderings  cease. 

This  cave  and  field, — no  more, — 

Canst  thou  thy  dwelling  call ; 

That  land  of  thine, — plains,  hills,  woods, 
streams, — 

The  stranger  has  it  all ! 


MACIIPELAH. 


233 


Thy  altar  and  thy  tent 

Are  all  that  thou  hast  here : 

With  these  content,  thou  passest  on, 

A  homeless  wanderer. 

Thy  life  unrest  and  toil ; 

Thy  course  a  pilgrimage; 

Only  in  death  thou  goest  down. 

To  claim  thy  heritage  ; — 

A  heritage  which  death 
Shall  seal  to  thee  for  aye, 

A  resurrection-heritage 

When  all  things  pass  away. 

A  home  of  endless  peace, 

Beyond  these  hills  of  strife; 

When  these  old  rocks  give  up  their  dead, 
And  death  shall  end  in  life. 

A  heritage  of  life, 

Beyond  this  guarded  gloom, 

A  kingdom,  not  a  field  or  cave  ; 

A  city,  not  a  tomb. 

20* 


OLD  WORDS. 


*A  7T?i.3  yap  kc,TL  T7]p  u?.j]6eiag  hry. — AESCHYLUS. 


i 

Was  this  earth  sunnier  in  the  days  of  old  ? 

Or  was  it  but  the  eye  that  looked  on  it, 

That  then  was  fresher,  happier,  in  the  youth 
And  manhood  of  our  race  ?  Were  springs  more  bright 
And  summers  lovelier,  lighted  up  by  suns 
Lons;  set,- — suns  of  a  younger  heaven  than  ours  ? 

Was  the  air  purer  ere  the  heavy  breath 
Of  ages  had  gone  to  poison  it? 

Did  the  long  gleam  upon  the  ancient  Nile 
Blaze  in  a  richer  radiance  to  the  noon, 

When  History’s  old  father  gazed  upon  it  ? 

Or  was  the  sunshine  on  the  hills  of  Greece 
Purer  when  Ilomer  sang  and  Sappho  wept : 

Or  was, the  brow  of  Lebanon  more  fair 
With  whiter  snow-wreaths,  Avhen  the  kings  of  Tyre 
Budded  their  marble  palaces  beneath 
The  mighty  shadows  of  its  haughty  peaks  ? 


OLD  WORDS. 


235 


Was  this  earth  sunnier  in  the  days  t.f  old, 

*/  • 

Or  is  the  glory  liovcring  o’er  its  bills. 

And  wandering  thro’  the  unfathomable  stretch 
Of  its  old  skies,  of  which  men  fondly  tell, 

But  the  gay  vision  of  a  fresher  eve, 

When  this  old  race  was  younger,  and  men’s  steps 
Went  with  more  buoyant  freedom  over  earth  ? 

Or  was  it  all  a  dream,  a  dream  of  youth, 

When  dreams  are  happiest  ?  Is  it  still  a  dream, 
Well-dreamt  in  these  our  days,  when  men  look  out 
With  sad  eye  on  the  present,  as  if  clouds, 

Unknown  in  other  days,  had  settled  down 
Upon  our  hills  to  shut  out  sun  and  stars  ? 

I  know  not.  Yet  I  love  to  wander  back 
To  this  earth’s  younger  days  and  earlier  scenes, 

In  which  there  seems  to  meet  both  age  and  youth, 
The  blossom  and  the  fruit,  the  joy  of  dawn, 

And  the  grave  quiet  of  the  solemn  eve. 

Was  the  world  wiser  in  the  days  of  old, 

When  in  this  land  our  fathers  died  for  truth, 

Or  is  the  wisdom  of  these  ancient  times, 

A  fable  well-devised,  to  keep  us  lowly  ? 

And  are  the  words  and  thoughts  of  other  days, 

The  martyr- words  and  thoughts,  and  above  all 


236 


OID  WORDS. 


Tlie  martyr-deeds  of  mighty  men  whose  hair 
Grew  grey  before  its  time,  whose  youthful  face 
Grew  early  pale,  and  o’er  whose  thoughtful  brow 
Age  drew  its  furrows,  prematurely  deep, — 

Are  these  old  words,  and  thoughts,  and  noble  deeds 
But  meant  for  them  who  heard  and  saw  them  then, 
But  overdated  now,  unsuitable 
For  manhood  and  full  age,  like  that  to  which 
We  have  attained  in  these  our  riper  times? 

It  cannot  be  so;  truth  is  ever  true, 

In  this  age  or  the  last,  and  error  false, 

To-day  as  it  was  yesterday.  No  age 
Can  outgrow  truth,  or  can  afford  to  part 
With  the  tried  wisdom  of  the  past,  with  words 
That  centuries  have  sifted,  and  on  which 
Ages  have  set  their  seal,  and  handed  down 
From  venerable  lips  of  solemn  men, 

Who  learned  their  wisdom  in  a  graver  school, 

And  in  an  age  of  keener,  sorer  conflict 
Than  we  have  known  in  this  gay  holiday, 

When  truth  and  error  are  but  thin 0*3  of  taste. 
Changelings  of  fashion,  altering  year  by  year. 

Guard  then  those  ancient  wells,  those  living  springs 
Of  which  our  fathers  drank  and  were  refreshed. 


OLD  WORDS. 


23 1 


Guard  then  these  ancient  palms  beneath  whose  shade 
Our  fathers  have  sat  down,  and  of  whose  fiuit 
They  ate  and  went  upon  their  wray  in  peace. 

Part  not  with  these  old  names,  each  one  of-which 
Bears  in  its  bosom  precious  histories, 

The  life-deeds  and  death-conflicts  of  the  men 
From  out  whose  loins  we  spring,  the  men  of  might 
And  wisdom,  who  have  won  such  victories 
Of  truth  for  us.  These  venerable  names 
And  words  preserve,  as  au  inheritance 
For  children’s  children  to  the  latest  age. 

Part  not  with  these  old  names  and  words,  each  one 
Contains  an  everlasting*  history, — 

A  great  soul’s  history,  which  like  a  pearl 
Within  its  shell  lies  hid.  Fling  not  away 
The  shell  because  unpolished  and  uncouth, 

Lest  in  so  doing  thou  shouldst  fling  away 
The  gem  whose  lustre  lies  unseen  within. 

It  is  not  beauty,  it  is  truth  we  seek, 

And  it  is  truth  that  men  would  fling  away, 

"because  its  outward  garb  is  rude  and  homely, 
ifet  truth  is  beauty,  best  of  beauty  here ; 

And  beauty  is  but  hidden  truth  unfolded, 

Like  blossoms  from  the  rough  brown  buds  of  spring, 


238 


OLD  WORDS. 


Part  not  with  these  old  names.  See  how  they  shino 
In  these  old  heavens,  like  stars,  whose  rays  no  age 
Can  dim,  nor  boastful  art  of  man  supplant, 

By  lights,  the  invention  of  his  fruitful  skill. 

They  lighted  up  the  darkness  of  the  ways 
By  which  our  fathers  walked  in  joy  to  heaven; 

Not  now  less  needful  nor  less  glad  their  beams. 

Part  not  with  these  old  names  and  words,  each  one 
Is  as  a  seed,  the  womb  of  hidden  life  ; 

And  he  that  flings  away  a  seed  destroys 
The  future  harvest  of  a  hundred  fields. 

Part  not  with  these  old  names,  in  each  of  them 
Our  fathers  wrapt  up  wisdom  for  their  sons, 

And  their  sons’  sons  down  to  earth’s  latest  day. 

What  thoughts  are  clinging  round  them,  thick  as  dew 
Upon  the  fields  of  the  fresh  summer’s  grass, 

Mellow  as  fruit  upon  the  autumn-trees. 

Say  not,  our  age  is  wiser;  if  it  be, 

It  is  the  wisdom  which  the  past  has  given 
That  makes  it  so  ;  for  in  these  names  is  mitten 
That  wondrous  wisdom  that  has  made  us  wise. 


THE  OLD  JEW  ON  MOUNT  MORIAH. 


He  stood  bewildered  on  his  lonely  hearth, 

Sadness  was  written  on  his  fixed  brow, 

For  he  had  witnessed  days  of  holy  mirth 
Where  silence  dwells  and  desolation  now. 

The  grief  ho  felt  he  cared  not  to  avow. 

Calmly  he  stood,  yet  sorrowfully  too, 

The  latest  leaf  upon  the  topmost  bough 
Of  the  green  olive  that  so  lately  threw 
Aloft  its  leafy  arms  when  the  glad  spring  was  new 

Friendless  and  homeless  !  How  unlike  the  past ! 

Once  honored  scion  of  a  noble  stem  ; 

But  now  forsaken,  desolate,  the  last 
Bright  jewel  of  a  kingly  diadem  ; 

The  last  dim  dew-drop  of  all  those  tnat  gem 
Tho  still  lone  valley  where  the  sunbeams  fall. 

He  trod  his  ancient  hills,  but  found  on  them 
Nought  but  his  shivered  altar-shrines,  for  all 
Was  tomb-like  hushed,  and  dark  as  with  a  funeral 
pall. 


THE  SHEPHERDS’  PLAIN. 


Dura  servant  oves  invenerunt  Agnum  Dei.” — Jerome. 


Blessed  night,  when  first  that  plain 
Echoed  with  the  joyful  strain, — 

“  Peace  has  come  to  earth  again.” 

Blessed  hills,  that  heard  the  song 
Of  the  glorious  angel-throng, 
Swelling  all  your  slopes  along. 


Happy  shepherds,  on  whose  ear 
Fell  the  tidings  glad  and  dear, — - 
u  God  to  man  is  drawing:  near.” 

O 


Happy  shepherds,  on  whose  eye 
Shone  the  glory  from  on  high, 
Of  the  heavenly  Majesty. 


THE  SHEPHERDS’  PLAIN. 


24] 


Happy,  happy  Bethlehem, 

Judah’s  least  but  brightest  gem, 
Where  the  rod  from  Jesse’s  stem. 

Scion  of  a  princely  race. 

Sprung  in  heaven’s  own  perfect  grace, 
Yet  in  feeble  lowliness. 

This  the  woman’s  promised  seed, 
Abram’s  mighty  son  indeed  ; 

Succorer  of  earth’s  great  need. 

This  the  victor  in  our  war, 

This  the  glory  seen  afar, 

This  the  light  of  Jacob’s  star ! 

Happy  Judah,  rise  and  own 
Him,  the  heir  of  David’s  throne, 
David’s  Lord,  and  David’s  Son. 

Babe  of  promise,  born  at  last, 

After  weary  ages  past, 

When  our  hopes  were  overcast, 

21 


242 


THE  SHEPHERDS*  PLAIH. 


Babe  of  weakness,  can  it  be, 

That  earth’s  last  great  victory 
Is  to  be  achieved  by  thee  % 

Child  of  meekness,  can  it  be 
That  the  proud  rebellious  knee 
Of  this  world  shall  bend  to  thee  3 

Child  of  poverty,  art  thou 

He  to  whom  all  heaven  shall  bow, 

And  all  earth  shall  pay  the  vow  X 

Can  that  feeble  head  alone 
.Bear  the  weight  of  such  a  crown, 
As  belongs  to  David’s  Son  X 

Can  these  helpless  hands  of  thine, 
"Wield  a  sceptre  so  divine, 

As  belongs  to  Jesse’s  line  X 

Heir  of  pain  and  toil,  whom  noa« 
In  this  evil  day  will  own, 

Art  thou  the  Eternal  One  % 


THE  SHEPHERDS  PLAIN. 


243 


Thou,  o’er  whom  the  sword  and  rod 
Wave,  in  haste,  to  drink  thy  blood, 
Art  thou  very  Son  of  God  ? 

Thus  revealed  to  shepherds’  eyes, 
Hidden  from  the  great  and  wise, 
Entering  earth  in  lowly  guise,—* 

Entering  hy  this  narrow  door, 

Laid  upon  this  rocky  floor, 

Placed  in  yonder  manger  poor. 

We  adore  thee  as  our  King, 

And  to  thee  our  song  we  sing ; 

Our  best  offering  to  thee  bring. 

Guarded  by  the  shepherds’  rod, 

’Mid  their  flock,  thy  poor  abode, 
Thus  we  own  thee,  Lamb  of  God, 

Lamb  of  God,  thy  lowly  name, 

King  of  kings,  we  thee  proclaim  ; 
Heaven  and  earth  shall  hear  its  fame. 


244 


THE  SHEPHERDS’  PLAIJf. 


Bearer  of  our  sins’  sad  load, 
Wielder  cf  the  iron  rod, 

Judah’s  Lion,  Lamb  of  God  I 

Mighty  King  of  righteousness, 

King  of  glory,  king  of  peace, 

Never  shall  thy  kingdom  cease  ! 

Thee,  earth’s  heir  and  Lord,  we  own  ; 
Raise  again  its  fallen  throne, 

Take  its  everlasting  crown. 

Blessed  Babe,  of  Bethlehem, 

Owner  of  earth’s  diadem, 

Claim,  and  wear  the  radiant  gem. 

Scatter  darkness  with  thy  light, 

End  the  sorrows  of  our  night, 

Speak  the  word,  and  all  is  bright. 

Spoil  the  spoiler  of  the  earth, 

Bring  creation’s  second  birth, 
Promised  day  of  song  and  mirth 


THE  SHEPHERDS’  PLAIN. 


245 


’Tis  thine  Israel’s  voice  that  calls, 
Build  again  thy  Salem’s  walls, 
Dwell  within  her  holy  halls. 


’Tis  thv  Church’s  voice  that  cries, 
Rend  these  long  unrended  skies, 
Bridegroom  of  the  Church,  arise. 

Take  to  thee  thy  power  and  reign, 
Purify  this  earth  again; 

Cleanse  it  from  each  curse  and  stain. 

Sun  of  peace,  no  longer  stay, 

Let  the  shadows  flee  awav, 

And  the  long  night  end  in  day. 

Let  the  dayspring  from  on  high* 
That  arose  in  Judah’s  sky, 

Cover  earth  eternally. 

Babe  of  Bethlehem,  to  thee, 

Infant  of  eternity, 

Everlasting  glory  be  ! 

21* 


COME,  LORD. 


“  Senuit  mundus.” — Augustine. 

Come,  Lord,  and  tarry  not : 

Bring  the  long-looked-for  day, 

Oh  why  these  years  of  waiting  here, 
These  ages  of  delay  ? 

Come,  for  thy  saints  still  wait ; 

Daily  ascends  their  sigh  ; 

The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come* 
Dost  thou  not  hear  the  cry  ? 

Come,  for  creation  groans, 

Impatient  of  thy  stay, 

Worn  out  with  these  long  years  of  ill, 
These  ages  of  delay. 

Come,  for  thy  Israel  pines, 

An  exile  from  thy  fold ; 

O  call  to  mind  thy  faithful  word, 

And  bless  them  as  of  old. 


/ 


COME,  LORB. 

Come,  for  thy  foes  are  strong  ; 

With  taunting  lip  they  say, 
“Where  is  the  promised  Advent  now, 
And  where  the  dreaded  day  ?” 

Come,  for  the  good  are  few ; 

They  lift  the  voice  in  vain, 

Faith  waxes  fainter  on  the  earth, 

And  love  is  on  the  wane. 

Come,  for  the  truth  is  weak, 

And  error  pours  abroad 
Its  subtle  poison  o’er  the  earth, — 

An  earth  that  hates  her  God. 

Come,  for  love  waxes  cold, 

Its  steps  are  faint  and  slow ; 

Faith  now  is  lost  in  unbelief, 

Hope’s  lamp  burns  dim  and  low. 

Come,  for  the  grave  is  full, 

Earth’s  tombs  no  more  can  hold, 
The  sated  sepulchres  rebel, 

And  groaRS  the  heaving  mould. 


24*7 


248 


COME,  LORD, 

Come,  for  the  corn  is  ripe, 

Put  in  thy  sickle  now, 

Reap  the  great  harvest  of  the  earth 
Sower  and  reaper  thou  I 

Come,  in  thy  glorious  might, 

Come  with  the  iron  rod, 

Scattering  thy  foes  before  thy  face, 
Most  mighty  Son  of  God. 

Come,  spoil  the  strong  man’s  house, 
Bind  him  and  cast  him  hence, 

Show  thyself  stronger  than  the  strong, 
Thyself  Omnipotence. 

Come,  and  make  all  things  newr, 

Build  up  this  ruined  earth, 

Restore  our  faded  Paradise, 

Creation’s  second  birth. 

Come,  and  begin  thy  reign 
Of  everlasting  peace, 

Come,  take  the  kingdom  to  thyself, 
Great  King  of  righteousness. 


THY  WAY,  NOT  MINE. 


Thy  way,  not  mine,  0  Lord, 
However  dark  it  be  ! 

Lead  me  by  thine  own  hand, 

Choose  out  the  path  for  me. 

Smooth  let  it  be  or  rough, 

It  will  be  still  the  best, 

Winding  or  straight,  it  matters  not, 
It  leads  me  to  thy  rest. 

I  dare  not  choose  my  lot : 

I  would  not,  if  I  might ; 

Choose  thou  for  me,  my  God, 

So  shall  I  walk  aright. 

The  kingdom  that  I  seek 
Is  thine :  so  let  the  way 

That  leads  to  it  be  thine, 

Else  I  must  surely  stray. 


250 


THY  WAY,  NOT  MINE. 


Take  tliou  my  cup,  and  it 
With  joy  or  sorrow  fill, 

As  best  to  tliee  may  seem  ; 

Clioose  thou  my  good  and  ill. 

Choose  thou  for  me  my  friends, 

My  sickness  or  my  health,  * 

Choose  thou  my  cares  for  me, 

My  poverty  or  wealth. 

Not  mine,  not  mine  the  choice, 

i 

In  things  or  great  or  small ; 

Be  thou  my  guide,  my  strength, 

My  wisdom,  and  my  all. 


ALLELUIA. 

(FROM  THE  LATIN.) 

Alleluia,  Alleluia ! 

The  battle  now  is  done, 

The  victory  is  won  ; 

Let  us  joy  and  sing 
Alleluia ! 

Alleluia,  Alleluia ! 

Suffering  death’s  cruel  doom, 
Jesus  hath  hell  overcome ; 
Let  us  praise  and  shout 
Alleluia ! 

Alleluia,  Alleluia ! 

He  rose  the  third  day,  bright 
In  heavenly  love  and  light ; 
Let  us  cry  and  chant 
Alleluia ! 


252 


ALLELUIA. 


Alleluia,  Alleluia ! 

Closed  are  the  gates  below, 
Heaven’s  halls  are  open  now  ; 
Let  us  joy  and  sing 
Alleluia ! 


Alleluia,  Alleluia ! 

Jesus,  by  thy  wounds,  save 
Us  from  the  endless  grave, 
That  we  ruav  live  and  sing 
Alleluia !  * 


*  I  give  the  first  stanza  of  the  above  hymn  as  a  specimen 

Alleluia,  Alleluia! 

Finita  jam  sunt  praslia, 

Est  parta  jam  victoria, 

Gaudeamus  et  canamus, 

Alleluia ! 


LIVE. 


Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live, 

For  thou  so  soon  must  die  ; 

Time  hurries  past  thee  like  the  breeze ; 
How  swift  its  moments  fly. 

Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live ! 

To  breathe,  and  wake,  and  sleep, 

To  smile,  to  sigh,  to  grieve ; 

To  move  in  idleness  through  earth, 

This,  this  is  not  to  live  ! 

Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live ! 


Make  haste,  O  man,  to  do 
Whatever  must  be  done  ; 

Thou  hast  no  time  to  lose  in  sloth, 

Thy  day  will  soon  be  gone. 

Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live  ! 
22 


254 


LIVE. 


Up  then  with  speed,  and  work  ; 

Fling  ease  and  self  away  ; 

This  is  no  time  for  thee  to  sleep, 

Up,  watch,  and  work  and  pray  ! 

Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live 

The  useful,  not  the  great, 

The  thing  that  never  dies ; 

The  silent  toil  that  is  not  lost, — 

Set  these  before  thine  eyes. 

Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live  1 

The  seed,  whose  leaf  and  flower, 

Though  poor  in  human  sight, 

Brings  forth  at  last  the  eternal  fruit, 

Sow  thou  by  day  and  night. 

Make  haste,  O  man,  to  live  1 

Make  haste,  O  man,  to  live, 

Thy  time  is  almost  o’er  ; 

O  sleep  not,  dream  not,  but  arise, 

The  Judge  is  at  the  door. 

Make  haste,  0  man,  to  live ! 


THE  MARTYR’S  GRAVE. 

3 

The  moss  is  green  upon  the  stone ; 

The  stone  lies  heavy  on  the  mould  ; 

The  spot  is  dreary,  sad,  and  lone ; 

The  forest  air  is  cold. 

The  shy  above  is  wan  and  bleak ; 

The  ground  beneath  is  brown  and  bare  ; 
No  living  voice  intrudes  to  break 

The  tranquil  silence  there. 

/ 

Another  breeze  among  the  boughs, 

And  then  another  leafy  shower 
Comes  rustling  down  ;  the  sadness  grows 
More  and  more  sad  each  hour. 

The  shadow  of  the  drifting  cloud 
Falls  chilly  on  these  gloomy  firs, 
Deepening  the  darkness  of  the  wood ; 
Hardly  a  leaflet  stirs. 


256 


THE  MARTYR’S  GRAVE. 


Quick-twinkling  through  the  leafy  screen, 

The  stray  gleams  go  and  come  ; 

ITalf-hidden  by  the  shade,  is  seen 
The  old  and  well-known  tomb. 

Here  sleeps  the  martyr’s  weary  head ; 

Here  moulders  holy  dust, 

With  the  wild  wood-moss  overspread, 

Resting  in  silent  trust. 

No  summer-flowers  breathe  sweetness  here, 

It  is  a  lone  forsaken  spot, 

Round  lie  the  leaves  of  autumn  sere, 

The  leaf  that  changes  not. 

Far  from  man’s  voice  of  love  or  strife, 

’Tis  fit  that  here  his  grave  should  be, 

In  death  au  outcast  as  in  life — 

Unnamed  in  history. 

Young  hopes,  young  friendships,  joys  of  earth, 
Had  passed  him  by  like  summer-dreams, 

Solemn  his  life  had  been  from  birth, 

Like  march  of  mountain  streams. 


THE  MARTYR’S  GRAVE. 


25 1 


Changeful  his  lot,  like  yon  vexed  sky, 
When  moorland  breezes  wildly  blow, 
His  weary  soul  now  rests  on  high, 

His  body  sleeps  below. 

Rest,  weary  dust,  lie  here  an  hour ; 

Ere  long,  like  blossom  from  the  sod, 
Thou  shalt  come  forth  a  glorious  flower, 
Fit  for  the  eye  of  God. 


22* 


ALL  WELL. 


No  seas  again  shall  sever; 

No  desert  intervene ; 

No  deep  and  flowing  river 
Shall  roll  its  tide  between. 

No  bleak  cliffs  upward  towering, 
Shall  bound  our  eager  sight ; 
No  tempest  darkly  lowering,  . 
Shall  wrap  us  in  its  nigbt. 

Love,  and  unsevered  union 
Of  soul  with  those  we  love, 
Nearness  and  glad  communion 
Shall  be  our  joy  above. 

No  dread  of  wasting  sickness, 

No  thought  of  ache  or  pain, 
No  fretting  hours  of  weakness, 
Shall  mar  our  peace  again. 


LINKS. 


259 


No  death  our  homes  o’ershading, 
Shall  e’er  our  harps  unstring, 
For  all  is  life  unfading, 

In  presence  of  our  King. 


LINKS. 

Are  there  not  voices,  strangely  sweet, 

And  tones  of  music  strangely  dear ; 

So  lovingly  the  soul  they  greet, 

So  kindly  steal  they  on  the  ear. 

We  know  not  why  they  strike  so  deep, 

We  can  not  tell  the  secret  spring 

Within  us,  which  they  wake  from  sleep, 

Nor  how  such  thoughts  their  notes  can  bring. 

We  ask  not  why  nor  how  they  thrill 
So  keenly  through  the  inmost  soul ; 

And  why,  when  ceased,  we  listen  still, 

As  though  they  yet  upon  us  stole. 


260 


LINKS. 


We  feel  the  sweetness  of  the  voice ; 

We  love  the  richness  of  the  tone ; 

% 

It  makes  us  sorrow  or  rejoice, 

Compelling  us  its  power  to  own. 

Are  there  not  words,  too,  strangely  sweet, 
Thoughts,  musings,  memories,  strangely  dear 
So  lovingly  the  soul  they  greet, 

So  gently  steal  they  on  the  ear ! 

Common  the  words  may  be  and  weak, 

The  passing  stranger  owns  them  not ; 

To  other  ears  in  vain  they  speak, 

Unknown,  unrelished,  or  forgot. 

Rich  in  old  thoughts,  these  words  appear, 

Part  of  our  being’s  mighty  whole  ; 

Linked  with  our  life’s  strange  story  here, 

Knit  to  each  feeling  of  our  soul. 

Linked  with  the  scenes  of  days  gone  past, 
With  all  life’s  earnest  hopes  and  fears  ; 
Linked  with  the  smiles  that  did  not  last, 

The  joys  and  griefs  of  faded  years. 


LINKS. 


2G1 


Linked  with  old  dreams  once  dreamt  in  youth, 
When  dreams  were  gladder,  truer  things ; 

When  each  night’s  vision  of  bright  truth, 

Lent  to  each  buoyant  day  its  wings. 

Linked  with  the  whisper  of  the  trees, 

When  summer  eves  were  fair  and  still ; 

Set  to  the  music  of  the  breeze, 

Or  murmur  of  the  twilight  rill. 

Linked  with  some  scene  of  sacred  calm, 

Of  holy  places,  holy  days  ; 

Linked  with  the  prayer,  the  hymn,  the  psalm, 
The  multitude’s  glad  voice  of  praise. 

Linked  with  the  names  of  holy  men, 

Martyr,  or  saint,  or  brother  dear ; 

Some  paided,  ne’er  to  meet  again, 

Some  still  our  fellow-pilgrims  here. 

Linked  with  that  name  of  names,  the  name 
Of  Him  who  bought  us  with  his  blood ; 

Who  bore  for  us  the  wrath  and  shame, 

The  Virgin’s  Son,  the  Christ  of  God. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  JUST. 


Autumn  lias  come  at  last ;  and  nature  now 
Binds  up  her  summer  tresses  and  disrobes, 

That  she  may  lay  herself  in  silence  down 
Upon  her  winter’s  couch,  and  thereby  sleep, 

Repair  her  worn-out  energies,  and  draw 

New  life  into  her  veins,  that  when  the  sun 

Flames  out  again,  and  the  long-silent  voice 

Of  happy  birds  and  happier  children  wakes 

Spring’s  first  glad  matin  song,  she  may  arise 

Girt  with  new  strength  and  with  fresh  beauty  clothed, 

Thus  comes  life’s  autumn,  and  the  happy  spirit, 

Calmly  disrobing,  lays  its  garments  down 

Upon  the  leaf-strewn  soil  of  this  old  earth, 

Committing  them,  in  quiet  confidence 

To  the  safe  keeping  of  the  trusty  tomb, 

Till  death’s  brief  winter  shall  have  passed  away. 

Then  these  old  robes  with  which  she  walked  the  earth, 
Purged  from  each  stain  of  vile  mortality 
By  th0  all-cleansing  winter  of  the  grave, 


THE  PRAYER. 


263 


And  blanched  to  glorious  whiteness  by  its  gloom. 
Shall  shine  in  fairer,  fresher  purity, 

When  earth’s  long-promised  spring  at  last  arrives, 
And  the  unsetting  sun  smiles  down  in  peace 
O’er  a  new  paradise  of  love  and  joy. 


THE  PRAYER. 


Fetch  me  the  lightning  from  yon  frowning  cloud, 
With  fiery  force  to  break  or  melt  this  heart, — 
A  heart  all  earthly,  foolish,  vain,  and  proud ; 

In  unbelief  and  hate  that  bids  its  God  depart. 


Fetch  me  a  beam  from  yon  clear  star  of  night ; 

Or  yet  a  warmer  ray  from  day’s  blight  sun, 

To  kindle  into  heat,  and  glow,  and  light, 

This  soul  of  gloom  and  death,  whose  day  seems 
scarce  begun. 


264 


THE  THAYER. 


Fetch  me  a  drop  from  yon  translucent  lake, 

Or,  farther  up,  from  yon  pure  mountain  well, 

These  lips  to  cool,  this  feverish  thirst  to  slake, 

This  weary  frame  to  freshen,  these  fierce  fires  to 
quell. 

/ 

O  thou  my  God,  my  being’s  health  and  source, 

Better  than  life,  brighter  than  noon  to  me, 

Stretch  out  thy  loving  hand,  with  gentle  force, 

Bend  this  still-struggling  will,  and  draw  it  after 
Thee. 

Return  to  me,  my  oft-forgotten  God, 

My  spirit’s  true  though  long-forsaken  rest ; 

Undo  these  bars,  re-enter  thine  abode, 

In  Thee  and  in  Thy  love  alone  would  I  be  blest. 


Re-mould  this  inner  man  in  every  part, 

Re-knit  these  broken  ties,  resume  thy  sway ; 
Take,  as  Thy  throne  and  altar,  this  poor  heart ; 
Oh  teach  me  how  to  love,  oh  help  me  to  obey ! 


i 


I 


THE  CITY. 


Thou  art  no  child  of  the  city  ; 

Hadst  thou  known  it  as  I  have  done, 
Thou  wouldst  not  have  smiled  with  pity, 
As  if  joy  were  with  thee  alone. 

With  thee  the  unfettered  ranger 
Of  the  forest  and  moorland  free  ; 

As  if  gloom  and  toil  and  danger 
Could  alone  in  a  city  be. 

The  smoke,  the  din,  and  the  bustle 
Of  the  city,  I  know  them  well, 

And  I  know  the  gentle  rustle 
Of  the  leaves  in  your  breezy  delL 

Day’s  hurry,  and  evening’s  riot, 

In  the  city  I  know  them  all ; 

I  know,  too,  the  loving  quiet 

Of  your  glen  at  the  day’s  sweet  fall. 
29 


266 


THE  CITY. 


I  know  too  each  grim  old  alley, 

With  the  blanched  ray  flickering  through ; 

I  know  each  sweep  of  your  valley, 

Where  the  rosy  light  lies  in  dew. 

I  know  too  the  stifling  sadness 

Of  the  summer-noon’s  sultry  street ; 

I ’ve  breathed  the  air  of  your  gladness 
Where  the  streams  and  the  breezes  meet. 

I  know  the  dun  haunts  of  fever, 

Where  the  blossoms  of  youth  decay  ; 

I  know  where  your  free  broad  river 
Sweeps  disease  on  its  breast  away. 

Yet  despite  your  earnest  pity, 

And  despite  its  own  smoke  and  din, 

I  cling  to  yon  crowded  city, 

Though  I  shrink  from  its  woe  and  sin. 

For  I  know  its  boundless  measure, 

Of  the  true,  and  the  good,  and  fair  ; 

Its  vast  and  far  gathered  treasure, 

All  the  wealth  of  soul  that  is  there. 


THE  CITY. 


267 


You  may  smile,  or  sneer,  or  pity, 

You  may  fancy  it  weak  and  strange  ; 

My  eye  to  yon  smoky  city, 

Still  returns  from  its  widest  range. 

My  heart  in  its  inmost  beatings 
Ever  lingers  around  its  homes  ; 

My  soul  wakes  up  in  its  greetings, 

To  the  gleam  of  its  spires  and  domes. 

You  call  it  life’s  weary  common, 

At  the  best  but  an  idle  fair, 

The  market  of  man  and  woman, — 

But  the  choice  of  the  race  are  there. 

The  wonders  of  life  and  gladness, 

All  the  wonders  of  hope  and  fear ; 

The  wonders  of  death  and  sadness, 

All  the  wonders  of  time  are  there. 

In  your  lone  lake’s  still  face  yonder, 

By  your  rivulet’s  bursting  glee, 

Deep  truth  I  may  read  and  ponder, 

Of  the  earth  and  its  mystery. 


268 


THE  CITT. 


There  seems,  in  yon  city’s  motion, 

Yet  a  mightier  truth  for  me ; 

’T  is  the  sound  of  life’s  great  ocean, 

*T  is  the  tides  of  the  human  sea. 

O’er  the  fields  of  earth  lie  scattered, 

Noble  fruitage  and  blossoms  rare ; 

Yon  city  the  store  has  gathered, 

And  the  garner  of  hearts  is  there. 

You  may  prize  the  lonely  lustre 
Of  your  pearl  or  emerald  green  ; 

What  is  that  to  the  gorgeous  cluster 
On  the  brow  of  the  crowned  Queen  ? 

And  the  home  to  which  I ’m  hasting, 

Is  not  in  some  silent  glen  ; 

The  place  where  my  hopes  are  resting, 

Is  a  city  of  living  men. 

The  crowds  are  there  ;  but  the  sadness 
Is  fled,  with  the  toil  and  pain  ; 

Nought  is  heard  but  the  song  of  gladness, - 
’T  is  the  city  of  holy  men. 


THE  CITY. 


?69 


And  wilt  thou  my  sad  fate  pity, 

Wilt  thou  grieve  o’er  my  heavy  doom 
When  within  that  resplendent  citj 
1  shall  find  my  glorious  home  ? 


TBI  END. 


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